Breathe
by Sandfire Kat
Summary: Loss is defined as the feeling of grief one feels when they have lost something or someone of great value. But grief can mutate and transform into something deadly, something much more toxic. It can grow in size and swallow someone whole, changing them from the person they once were into someone of a polar body. How can you help someone move on when they don't even want to live?
1. Chapter 1

It was dark. The only sources of light that seeped into the room came from the moon that leaked through the blinded windows— that, and the small nightlight that was plugged into the far left wall. The clock on the bedside table showed that it was far past midnight, though the sun still had yet to come up and make its first appearance. It was frigid in the room, the temperature derived from not only the lack of sun, but also the season as well as the sound of blowing wind and the fainter sound of sleet could be heard through the walls of the building. The very noises of the weather swallowed up most of the excess noise in the bedroom, such as the ticking of the clock that hung over the stairs, or the small creaking of the floorboards throughout the home.

But the sleet and the snow didn't manage to stifle all of the surplus noises.

From the muted sense of quiet that the night brought with it, there was another small sound— one that barely made itself known in the first place. But sure enough, it managed to make itself known: a hushed sort of crying noise that was only amplified in its sharp contrast it held with its hiccupping squeaks and small gasps. The child nearest to the far wall, a child whose age was around nine or ten, was slowly roused by the sound. And their initial reaction came across as similar to the way that a person would react upon hearing the beeping drone of a smoke alarm: confusion that gradually grew into paranoia and fear.

The ten-year-old sat upright, the covers that were previously tucked tightly around his form rumpling off as he pushed himself upwards. His jet-black hair was tussled awkwardly this way and that, his eyes bleary from sleep as they narrowed, drilling through the dark room straight towards the spot in which the slight sound of crying was originating from. The way that he immediately looked straight to the source of the noise signaled that he had experienced such a wake-up call before. However such a fact didn't deter the way that he got up, the small boy quite literally throwing off his sheets and stumbling quickly down to the floor, barely reacting to the feeling of the freezing wood underneath his feet as he rushed forward.

Skirting around a haphazardly-strewn pile of books that had yet to be arranged into the new bookshelf being built beside them, the young boy made straight for the sobs, hurrying towards the other bed that was arranged inside of the room, worry and concern filling up the boy's expression at the sight of a small lump hidden underneath the covers. As he got closer, the sound of the soft crying got louder, and the ten-year-old reached over to peel away the comforter, fright and distress causing his movements to be quick. Both emotions were alive in the young child's voice as he spoke, words coming out laced with the two as he demanded an answer. "Hiro?" He asked. "Hiro, are you awake?"

Having been exposed now that the covers had been drawn backwards, the source of the muffed tears came in the form of another small boy, albeit younger of about four or five years. The young child was curled up into a tight ball, his head lowered as his far-messier black hair covered up most of his face, which led the older of the two to wonder whether or not the younger boy was actually conscious in his cries.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time that the young child had done such a thing, and the ten-year-old should know, since most nights it took place ended just like this: with him running out of bed and over to where the littler boy lay, ready and willing enough to try and see what the issue was. It had happened very frequently ever since the boy was three— which of course entailed the reason to the sudden change in ability to sleep. Their caretaker now — their Aunt — claimed that it was predictable for such a young toddler to do, and that he would most likely grow out of it soon. Hopefully. She never really was that confident in what she thought was best when it came to the ordeal surrounding the pair of them. Though she was certainly doing her best to tackle the recent situation.

Feeling a small pang in his heart, the older boy sat down lightly on the mattress, leaning over and shaking the shoulder of his younger brother. Again, he pressed further, looking concerned as he saw the state that the very young boy was in. Little shoulders shook in slight sobs, and as a hand was placed on the trembling form and the little one turned onto his back, the older could see that tears were making long track marks down the sides of his face. The tears had dyed the little one's eyes a slightly pink color, and the irritation seemed to only worsen as the three-year-old reached up to wipe roughly at his face. The older sat up a little bit straighter as the younger opened his mouth to say something, but all that got out was a small, plaintive whine of his name. "Tadashi."

Tadashi gave a small smile, though it was slightly deflated and sad as he looked down at Hiro. "It's late." He said, looking over towards the clock on the wall as he said this. But the dark gloom around them made it too difficult to try and see where the two hands were pointing exactly. He looked back, once again looking concerned at the sight of his younger brother. "What's wrong? What happened?" Reaching up to brush aside some of the hair that was still hanging over Hiro's face, Tadashi tried again a little reluctantly, still a bit unsure: "Are you awake?"

The little boy sniffed, still rubbing at his eyes groggily. "My head hurts." He whined, his voice sad and punctured in sorrowful hiccups. Tadashi frowned, reaching up and laying a hand over the little one's forehead. Sure enough, it was slightly warmer than what was usually normal. Maybe he had adopted a fever sometime during the night? "My head hurts." Hiro repeated, a little bit louder with this one, as if he wasn't sure that Tadashi had heard him the first time around. "I don't feel good."

"I think you're sick, little brother." Tadashi said, his voice noticeably softer now as he nodded once. He drew back his hand, letting it rest comfortingly on the little one's shoulder briefly. "I can go wake up Aunt Cass— she can give you some medicine to help make you feel better. Okay? I think that sounds pretty good." The only reaction that he got from the younger was another small sniffle, a little quieter than before but still prominent. The smile on Tadashi's face grew into a much more sympathetic one at this, and the ten-year-old reached up to gently pat his baby brother's head. "I'll go wake her up." He repeated, starting to get up from the edge of the bed. Aunt Cass had probably turned in a long time ago— but she would certainly be shooting right up to her feet at the mention that Hiro might be getting sick. Tadashi figured that she would probably get to be _too_ awake once he told her. She certainly had the tendency to—

A hand reached over to fist itself firmly in the shirt of the ten-year-old, Tadashi stilling with slight surprise as he was stopped halfway up to his feet. He turned and looked back to see the Hiro had gotten up into a sitting position, the little boy's teary expression fixed firmly onto his older brother as it adopted an almost angered look. "I don't want medicine." The younger said, his voice barbed as he kept a firm hold onto Tadashi's pajamas. His brown eyes were narrowed slightly as he frowned, his lips puckering out in that stubborn scowl that Tadashi knew probably too well by now.

It was all the ten-year-old could do not to sigh aloud. Instead he smiled more, reaching up and grabbing at the little one's wrist, prying off his tight hold and gently lowering Hiro's hand back down onto the bed. "Of course you do— don't be silly." He said lightly. "You need medicine to make you feel better, don't you? That's the point of having it around in the first place." Hiro locked his jaw backwards, looking frustrated. But even in the dark Tadashi could tell that the boy's eyes were feverishly bright; if he was already crying over the pain in his head now, it would only worsen if he wasn't given at least some children's painkillers. "Look, I'll be right back. I'll just go downstairs and—"

"No." The objection came faster this time from the little boy, and Tadashi was unable to withhold his sigh this time as he shook his head.

"Hiro, if you don't feel good, you have to take the medicine. I don't know what I should give you so I'll go get Aunt Cass. It might taste bad but would you rather have a-"

"I want you to stay." The little boy quipped, still looking frustrated as he said this, though his scowl did loosen slightly as he looked up at his older brother. Tadashi blinked rapidly, surprised at the sudden change in not only look but in tone as he well as he stuttered for a moment. Hiro's face fell at this, and when he repeated his words for the umpteenth time, his voice was much more reserved than before. "I want you to stay— I don't want you to go downstairs. I just want you to make me better and I don't want medicine." Though the boy was tired and whatever kind of illness he was experiencing seemed big enough to bring those tears in the first place, he seemed far more than sure of himself as he restated his words over and over again.

After the initial surprise left the boy's eyes, Tadashi melted— the boy always had the awful habit of being easily swayed by his younger brother. He glanced over to the stairs, sighing slightly as he bit down on his lower lip. But the inevitable occurred, and he grinned, nodding as he turned back to his baby brother. "Okay; fine." He said patiently, the virtue often being taken advantage of by Hiro more often than was probably needed. "I'll stay up here." He reasoned. "But only if you agree that when you get up tomorrow you'll have some medicine." The fever didn't seem that big to begin with at the moment. If this was what Hiro wanted, Tadashi found it okay enough to leave until morning. And besides: once Tadashi had gotten up, Hiro had stopped most of his crying.

The older turned, sitting back down to where he had been before and he watched as Hiro turned and lay back down on the bed, turning slowly to be on his side and curling his knees up to his chest with another sniff of his nose. Tadashi sighed softly at this, and he scooted closer, reaching over and drawing his hand comfortingly over the smaller child's hair. Gently of course, as to not upset his head further; but he still tried to offer as much comfort as he could to the young boy. It got quiet for a second, the only sound returning to be once more only the wind outside, accompanied every so often by a small sniffle or sigh from Hiro.

Until it was broken again.

"They aren't coming back, are they?" Tadashi stiffened at the question, turning and looking down at Hiro as he asked this. The child had a sullen look on his face, more tears glinting in the dim light of the room now as the topic was changed. A crease appeared over Tadashi's forehead, the ten-year-old waiting for a moment to see whether or not Hiro would turn and look his way. But the younger refused, staring instead off to the side instead as he reached up to scrub at his face again. He didn't offer elaboration on his question; he didn't need to. The meaning was clear as day, and a heavy weight settled over Tadashi as the boy leaned a little bit closer, looking pained.

"Is that what this is all about?" He asked.

Hiro didn't answer except to offer yet another snuffle.

He searched for something to say. It was more than obvious that any and all words to speak was suddenly evading the elder, and his eyes flickered over habitually to the photograph that he had put on the wall near his own bed— a picture of the two boys paired with their parents that they had taken what felt like years ago. A lump formed in the back of his throat, and suddenly the boy that usually had a kind response for everything was left grasping at straws. "Hiro, you can't-" He broke off, finding that whatever he was about to say would have undermined it all. He tried again. "You shouldn't…." But he trailed off from that as well, finding himself absolutely unable to finish any response.

But if such a thing was hard to do then, it became impossible with the next question that came along, coming across in the same small and saddened voice. "But you're going to stay…right?" Hiro mumbled out, voice much more subdued than it had been before; though it hadn't had much volume to it in the first place. Silence clogged up the room for what seemed like far too long. Tadashi started to open his mouth to speak, but it was obvious of the apparent weariness on the boy. Hiro had just now turned four— any other child as young as him would have taken the sudden disappearance of their parents merely as a simple stay away; it would be much easier in that sense if Hiro just assumed the least lethal option of their new situation. But Hiro was unlike any other four-year-old, and there very wasn't much that he didn't understand.

It hadn't been the first question to cause the thickness in his throat. The first question had a definite answer; not only was the first question something that could be explained and elaborated, but it was also one that Tadashi was very skilled in answering by now. Whether or not it had come in exactly the same form, the older of the two Hamada brothers had been the one to talk to the other mourners, taking most, if not all, of the painful questions that would otherwise cause Hiro to become more emotional than he had already been left in this wake. In the last few months he had become skilled in handling this breed of inquiry. 'Are you holding up okay?' 'You know that they loved you, right?' 'Are you feeling any better today?' 'Could you tell me what happened?' 'So what are you planning on now?' and even 'They're not coming back, are they?' were all topics he could swallow, albeit bitterly.

But this one?

"I'm-" Tadashi winced briefly as his voice came out slightly thicker than it normally was, the young boy pausing briefly to clear his throat before going on. "No, Hiro, no, of course I'm going to be here. Where else could I possibly go?" He studied the smaller child carefully, watching as his little brother closed his eyes with another snuffle, reaching up to brush at his eyes again as Tadashi reached over again to ruffle his hair as lightly as he could. "What happened to Mom and Dad is different." He went on, his voice gentler than it had been previously. "I'm not going to go anywhere for a really long time. I promise." Then he paused, lighting up slightly in order to offer the boy a small smile. "You know that I couldn't leave you alone to yourself, right?" The elder teased, a humorous lift coming to his voice now. When Hiro didn't reply exactly, the smile faded. "…You okay?" He murmured softly, concerned once more as he tilted his head to the side a little bit.

"My head hurts." Again came the rather frustrating little complaint.

But Tadashi just sighed, the relentless smile coming over his face again as he gave a nod. "Right." He hummed. "But you also said you didn't want medicine, you Knucklehead. So what do you want me to do?" He found himself waiting for Hiro to just repeat his phrase for the millionth time. Mostly when he woke up in such a way as this he got drowsy somewhere in the middle, half-awake and half-asleep as he mumbled out nonsense. Most of the times it was funny— back when they lived with their parents, Tadashi used to poke fun at the nocturnal habit of Hiro's. But the opportunity to laugh at it had been few and far between the past few months; recently it had taken on the trend of being less amusing and more saddening.

The little child paused for the briefest of seconds before rolling over onto his back, wriggling out his arms from underneath the covers and reaching out a little limply towards where Tadashi had seated himself, an imploring sort of pout pasted over his features. The elder sighed once more but smiled, shuffling over and laying down on the other side of the bed that had been assigned to be Hiro's when they had moved into Aunt Cass' home above her cafe. "C'mere then." He sighed lightly, Hiro already scooting over to be closer to his older brother. "I'm not sure how this'll help your head, though." He said, a mockingly-reproachful tone to his voice as he knew inwardly that all of this did not originate from any kid of real sickness.

Hiro didn't respond of course— the little kid was already falling asleep again. The tenseness that had shown in the boy's shoulders seemed near extinct now as the four-year-old curled up closer to the other, ducking his head down and letting out a small, shaky sigh. Tadashi wrapped his arm around his shoulders, giving him a reassuring embrace before letting go in order to curl up as well. It was far later than what was reasonable at this point— despite the fact that Tadashi was getting very skilled in having to get up in the early hours of the morning like this, it didn't do anything to cause the boy to be any less exhausted by the efforts.

Hiro tossed and turned at his side, and in the effort to try and help the younger to go back to sleep —they both had school in the morning— he asked softly: "Do you hear all that wind outside? I bet there's gonna be so much ice outside tomorrow. …I can't remember if you've been ice skating before, little brother; you might have been too young. But I bet we could try it sometime tomorrow with all this horrible weather." He rubbed Hiro's arm up and down soothingly, trying to get him to calm down enough to stop twisting around or sniffling and go back to sleep.

No response.

"Hiro? Hiro, did you hear me? ….Hiro? Are you listening to me? What are you doing? …Hiro! **Hiro**!"

The sudden shout caused a rush of surprise to shoot through Hiro, the boy jerking forwards at the yell and slamming his forehead against the glass window of the cafe. The thud caused dull pain to wrap around his head, the teenager groaning in the back of his throat as he reached up to rub at his temple with a sour look of discomfort. "Oh!" The voice came again, though this time it was much quieter now, softer than the previous snap. One eye closed in irritation, Hiro ducked his head down to his chest, an irritated grumble escaping from the corner of his lips. Aunt Cass, who had been busying herself behind the cash register, had straightened quickly at the shocked reaction from the younger, a guilty and slightly nervous frown on her face as she immediately shut up the machine, weaving back around towards him as she wrung her hands together in front of her. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…to scare you like that…"

"You didn't scare me." Hiro mumbled, wincing one last time before dropping his hand back down to his side, having rubbed away most of the pain that had wormed into his head. The fourteen-year-old glanced briefly over the table in front of him, his eyes catching on the small plate of food that had been laid out in front of him on the table. It was cold by now, having been made for him about an hour ago by Aunt Cass. The woman paused briefly on her way over, blinking as the boy paused over the plate of spaghetti, as if he were debating trying to eat some of it for once rather than leave it untouched like all the plates she offered him. But disappointment hung itself over her features as Hiro merely turned away from it again, twisting instead to look back out the window, as he had been doing for quite some time.

Aunt Cass, eyeing the patrons of the cafe who were busy eating their own ordered food, made her way slowly over to where Hiro was sitting, hovering for a moment as she waited for him to look back at her. But the black-haired boy seemed to have gotten distracted, staring in an unfocused manner out into the streets, which were slowly starting to become illuminated by the streetlights lining the roads. He had been quiet for some time— Aunt Cass had managed to get the boy out of his room after some thorough coaxing, yet her victory in persuading him out was short-lived after Hiro just took to being silent and brooding. He hadn't even poked at his food. Just like he had been doing for the past month and a half.

She coughed lightly in the back of her throat. Hiro didn't react much, and after glancing around her patrons one last time, as if they could offer her some kind of assistance, she started to venture forward slowly. "Hiro?" The boy stirred at his name, the woman being encouraged at the fact that it had been easier to grab his attention than last time he'd become disconnected. So she coughed again and went on, her voice a tad lighter now as she grinned, looking over Hiro's head and out the window as well. "I was just saying how the weather's so horrible." She laughed, eyeing the rain that was coming down in sheets outside. "And just think: soon all of this could be snow! Won't that be great?"

Hiro gave a noncommittal grunt in what Aunt Cass guessed was supposed to be an agreement. Her smile faltered slightly at the lack of attention that the boy was showing; it wasn't to say that she was surprised by it, though. Ever since the night of the Showcase at the college, and ever since Tadashi had passed away, Hiro had been vacant and, in the most general sense of the word, sad. Depressed. At first the woman had allowed the boy space and time, hoping that the age-old expression of 'Time Healing all Wounds' would apply in such a situation as this. After all, she had needed her own time to come to acceptance as well. But more than a month had gone by, and while she had picked herself up and had come to terms with what had happened, it hadn't seemed to work the same for Hiro, who only seemed to fall further into the rut of loss. He was spacey and distracted, barely allowing any kind of conversation other than small tidbits, and he rarely ever left his room unless Aunt Cass was the one to lead him down the stairs like she had tonight. It pained the woman to even try and remember the last time he had cracked a smile that was halfway genuine.

Aunt Cass had tried everything she could; what more could she do as his guardian? Movie night hadn't worked; Hiro was never interested in what she picked out, and it was always a process in trying to find a movie that didn't involve any kind of death in its plot just in case it upset him further. Cooking together didn't work; the first attempt had been the last after Hiro had accidentally lost track of how much time the oven was running and almost started a fire in the kitchen. Board games were out; it was a moot effort when only one person was focusing and driving a game of Monopoly. And getting out of the house was never easy with the way that Hiro had to be coaxed to even take a trip down the stairs.

It was a long process, but Aunt Cass was determined to keep trying, no matter the extent that it came to be in. Having faith in the child that she raised ever since he was three, she smiled brightly instead as she shook off the disappointing answer. "I was going to ask if you wanted to make some cookies later." She said, reaching over and giving Hiro's shoulder a small shake. The boy blinked rapidly, as if surprised that she was still standing there, turning away from the window and looking up to meet her gaze a little hesitantly. Yet she kept the smile brightly, refusing to let it waver now that he had finally torn his eyes away from the window and the dreary sight of outside. "I could set a timer this time." She added teasingly. "That way we won't have to worry about losing track of however long they're in there."

"That sounds great." Hiro said, though his voice lacked any sense of enthusiasm that may have been there prior to this ordeal. But it was far more than Cass had been expecting, the brunette's face splitting into a far bigger smile now as a touch of excitement seemed to spark itself in the back of her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, looking as if she was about to launch into one of her happiness-fueled rants that she had the tendency to ramble on through. But Hiro spoke up before she could get out a single syllable, and whatever sense of mirth that was starting to rise up inside of her was dashed a little. "But I'm…um, I'm gonna go out. Tonight." Hiro said, looking back down at the plate that was in front of him rather than keeping his gaze locked with Cass'. Numbly, he picked up the fork that was lying on the table, stabbing disinterestedly at the noodles as a way to occupy himself.

"…Oh." Cass murmured after a moment of silence, feeling a touch of regret at the let-down. But then she shook herself, lighting up once again as she simpered. "Really?" She asked. Well….that was good; he hadn't been out of the house in such a long time, maybe this was just the start of things getting better if he was willing to get out and about. "That's great!" She said, brightening at the mental picture. "Are you going out with your friends? I haven't seen them since it all happened; they must be itching to hang out with you!" Hiro glanced at her from the corner of his eyes at this, but he didn't offer much in response. "Well…well that's just awesome!" She was bubbling over by now, but she couldn't manage to stop herself as she beamed. "Do you need a ride somewhere? Do you need me to get your jacket? I can get you some gloves and a scarf too; it's starting to get a little chilly outside. Oh, and this rain is going to make things even worse, do you want a poncho? Or maybe I can just try to see whether or not I can find an umbrella around here— it shouldn't be too hard….maybe I can—"

"You don't have to do anything." Hiro said, effectively cutting her off as he spoke up. "Really, I'm okay. I can just, um….meet up with them on my own. I can get my hoodie; it isn't that bad outside." The boy paused for a moment before grinning, offering his Aunt a smile as he set down his fork in the pile of now-disturbed noodles, having not actually eaten a single bite, but just pushed around the food to make it appear touched. "That's okay, right?" Cass opened her mouth to answer him, but Hiro was already pushing his chair back from the table, standing up and offering her yet another small grin. It was more than he had smiled in the past month and half, and it was clear on the woman's face that the mere idea of some kind of progress was elating. Even the simple notion of having things become better was enough to cause that happy bubble to come back up in the back of her throat.

"No, no, that's completely fine. You go do whatever you want, honey, don't you even worry about me!" She gushed, thrilled as she reached out and placed her hands on either one of Hiro's shoulders affectionately. She reached over, fiddling with the young boy's hair habitually, the boy's smile fading quickly as she went to work and fussed. "You go have fun with your friends! I won't even give you a curfew, how's that sound?" Hiro didn't reply, but there wasn't much need for his input into the conversation at this point. "You go…do whatever teenagers do. Go tee-pee other kids' houses and smash some mailboxes and vandalize the streets— wait on second thought, you might not want to go and do that. How's a movie sound? I heard that new one that just came out was pretty good. I mean obviously if smashing mailboxes is what makes you happy then maybe I could try and—"

"Okay Aunt Cass." Hiro mumbled, reaching up and quiet literally prying her hands off of him. The patrons of the cafe were staring by now, but the quick evasion was more for the child's own sake rather than anyone else's. Hiro glanced down instead to the untouched plate of pasta that had been provided him a while ago. It wasn't to say that he had been planning to eat the meal anyway, he wasn't hungry. But he had gotten distracted looking out the window, and it seemed like he had spaced out in his own thoughts.

A lump formed in his throat at the memory that he had flashed back to, and he felt again the now-familiar tear in his heart at the thought of that night so long ago. He would have rather stayed, he realized. Sitting at the cafe table, spacing away from the crowded and noisy restaurant and thinking back to other times. It wasn't healthy, Aunt Cass had persisted. It wouldn't help; it would just make things worse. But the fact remained that he hadn't seen Tadashi in what felt like ages, though really it was only just an amount of sparse weeks after his older brother's death. He would take a memory, no matter how bitter it appeared to be, if that meant that he could at least picture him. Thinking back served as a distraction from the pitied looks from the customers that filed in here and realized that he was downstairs today. Or the mass amount of emails and web videos that were piling on his computer from Tadashi's old friends over at the college. Distractions were more preferable than this.

Hiro cleared his throat, shaking his head in the attempt to clear it from the unneeded thoughts. "I think that I'm gonna go pretty soon, though." The teenager said slowly, reaching up and scratching the back of his head as he said this. "I planned it all out with them this morning; they said they would be waiting for me at the Park a few blocks down. They said that maybe a walk would be a good idea. You know, to get…talking about…some stuff." Before Aunt Cass could propose a question in response to him, he perked, clearing his throat and glancing up at her almost imploringly. "Is that alright?"

Cass looked a little uncertain. "Uh…sure honey." She said slowly. "But wouldn't they much rather come here and talk?" Always pushing, she grinned a little bit as she said: "I could close up shop a little early, it's no trouble. The weather's not the best for a walk in the park. It isn't raining as hard as it was before, but you don't want to be soaked, do you? You'll get dripping wet and I'm sure that the last thing that you need right now is a cold. But if you come here then you'll be able to have doughnuts and pies! I don't know whether they're stale or not by now," This sentence was perhaps spoken a bit too loud, for it caused many of the other patrons to look up from their food and glance suspiciously over her way. "but I could always whip something up in a jiffy for you, you know that." Hiro listened with a slightly pained look as his Aunt went on and on, dishing out more and more options that he really didn't have the energy to listen through. "But are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? Because it's no trouble, really, it would be easy to—"

Finally Hiro cut through. "I'm sure, Aunt Cass. But thank you though. They just wanted a night outside. With me. And it's fine; I don't mind the cold. Or the rain." He smiled at this, and as Aunt Cass still seemed dubious, he stepped forward, pushing himself onto his toes and stretching up in order to plant a small kiss on the side of her cheek. A rather mean move, as it instantly caused the reaction that the younger boy was hoping it would, the woman's face breaking once again into that large smile and all the worry melting off of her face. "I'll be fine." He assured, pulling back quickly and already starting to duck away. "It's nothing I can't handle."

Aunt Cass started to reply, but the boy had already turned, slouching out of the cafe and towards the stairs to where their home would begin. The brunette watched carefully as her nephew trudged up the stairs, the smile on her face remaining as she relished in the idea that he would actually go out with friends tonight. It had been far too many weeks of the boy just staying holed up in his room— and while such a reaction was more than a given in the face of how close Hiro and Tadashi had been growing up, it was still worrying. When he wasn't upstairs, Hiro always seemed to be wishing that he was, vacant and absent-minded as he took to just staring off to the side like he had today over what was supposed to be his dinner. There have been a few days even when the young boy would simply refuse to get out of his bed. It couldn't be helping in staying up there, in the vacancy of his brother's empty bed and all of his other belongings that had yet to be dealt with. Aunt Cass had always meant to do something with them, but the mere thought of giving the things away was awful. Yet keeping them as an ever-present reminder wasn't helping either. Not when Hiro was as depressed as he had been.

Going out with friends would be good for him, she told herself firmly. It would help to get his mind off of things and start focusing on something other than his recent loss. Maybe tonight would help him see that registering for college might be a good idea. The group of kids had been up multiple times of course since the fire— they had even been at Tadashi's funeral. Yet Hiro had never come down to greet them; he never even seemed to react when Cass had told him that they were downstairs asking for the child. Whatever obstacle that was in the way seemed to have lifted from the boy if he was going out to meet them tonight. And this could only mean that more things were on their way, more accomplishments that would eventually lead to the boy making a full recovery from the tragedy that had occurred. The simple idea or thought that such a thing was possible caused the woman to smile brilliantly once again, an aching sort of happiness in the idea that her little boy could get past something like this.

A few minutes passed in which Cass took to milling around, taking away trash and refilling coffee, managing to hold a few sparse conversations. Mrs. Matsuda, a regular to the bakery, hindered the woman's flittering about to check on each customer there as she stopped Cass in order to ask how Hiro was doing. Most regulars had the same question when they came along, always finding it odd not to see at least a passing glance of him milling about. And to see him just sitting motionless like he'd taken to today was even more concerning to some. Cass recalled how Tadashi and Hiro would often help to run the cafe during the summer or weekends, or when they were just simply bored. Usually the pair of them caused more havoc and chaos than was really necessary to run the cafe — there had been one time where Hiro had decided that he would try his very best to shoot straw wrappers at Tadashi no matter where the older brother was inside of the cafe, and Tadashi had responded by trying to wrangle the bag of straws away from the younger, which ended up in three spilled drinks and a tray of doughnuts falling onto the floor — but it was always well appreciated in the end. Good fun. Fun that was sorely missed by Aunt Cass and the regulars alike, as it turned out.

But Cass' conversation with the old woman was cut short as Hiro came back downstairs. Sure enough, he had put on one of his hoodies, the hood drawn up snugly around his face as he made for the door. Excusing herself in a little bit of a rush, the guardian sidled around her other customers, throwing out quick 'I'll be right with you's or 'Hang on a second please's as she sidled past people that were trying to get her attention. "Hiro!" She called, the boy stopping short with one hand on the door as he stiffened.

The fourteen-year-old turned around to face her just in time to be greeted with a large bear hug, a small squeak escaping from his throat as he was squeezed tightly around his waist. Aunt Cass beamed as she hugged close to her nephew, swaying side to side a little bit as she hummed under her breath. "You go have so much fun tonight!" She ordered as she pulled back, a small wince over Hiro's face from such an unexpected and tight embrace. "Don't even worry about curfew, you just go and hang out with your friends, okay?"

"Thanks Aunt Cass." Hiro offered, trying to offer yet another smile, though it came out a little more awkward than anything that could be genuine.

The fact went unnoticed to his guardian in the elation of his actually leaving, and she pulled him in for yet another bone-crushing squeeze, much to the irritation of the young boy. "Last hug!" The woman chirped, keeping the child longer this time as she kept him in her vice-like grip. But after a moment or two, she let go, Hiro wriggling out from her hold and smoothing over his hoodie, ensuring that it was still snug. "I'll see you later then! I have to tend to the night rush, I guess." She said, unperturbed even by the increasingly-irate customers waiting for their service behind her.

"Good luck with that." Hiro bode, his hands slipping into the front pocket of his hoodie as he quickly drew backwards, exiting the cafe hurriedly as he shouldered open the door. Outside it was colder than he'd first expected, the boy staggering slightly as he stepped over the threshold. And sure enough, the sensation of small pricks on his head signaled raindrops, and dark circles started to pepper themselves over his sweatshirt the longer he stood in one place. Exhaling and glancing behind him, Hiro stood pensively for a moment or two outside the building, bathed in the warm glow that came from the lights inside as he watched Aunt Cass return to her daily routine in running the shop. She seemed happy as she fluttered here and there, taking orders and payments from her customers all while her mouth moved a mile a minute, probably holding up a hundred different conversations at once. It was like any other night.

The idea caused a small shadow to fall over the boy's expression, and he looked down, one of his arms slipping out from his hoodie, as he withdrew the small robot that he had stashed there. Taking out his other arm as well, Hiro held the small thing in his hands, staring down almost blankly at the small thing that he had created what seemed like ages ago. It was the thing that had inspired his Microbots, which were now all destroyed along with everything else in the fire that had ravaged the Showcase. The thought elicited a heavy sigh from the teenager, who turned the fighting robot — who he'd given the title Megabot — over and over in his hands. He looked up, almost torn as he looked around, down the street, to the left, to the right, or back behind the store. He considered tucking away the robot, doubling back instead and heading left to the park like he had told Aunt Cass he would do. The idea of lying to the woman, when she seemed so happy at even the smallest mention of him going out and doing something with Tadashi's friends, was unpleasant. It made his stomach clench guiltily, and he looked down the street that would lead him there.

But he couldn't. He couldn't go and be with them— they were Tadashi's friends. Sure, while Hiro had worked on the Microbots for the college Showcase, he had managed to get closer to them, and he had maybe even formed something akin to a friendship with the group. But that was just because Tadashi had introduced them all and had invited them in the first place. He couldn't go and be with them now. Not after everything that happened. Not without Tadashi by his side.

Hunching his shoulders and looking back down briefly at Megabot, Hiro turned and started down the opposite way, hunching his shoulders and making his way downtown as he walked against the rain.

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It was booming still, despite the dreary and unnaturally-frigid weather. The alley was still packed with people that had journeyed underground for bot fights, who still took to standing around in a closely-knit circle, the people still just as hyped over the metallic violence as they always had been. Shouts were coming from every direction, money being thrown this way and that as bets were placed on whoever was in the center of the mayhem to showcase whatever new kind of bot they were confident in winning with. The air was tight with tension and fraught with excitement, and with the newest fight being set up in the middle of the backlot, the roar of voices and conversation rose to an all-time high.

It was like everything was the same, everything was normal. Like nothing at all had happened. It was bittersweet, but Hiro found himself aching for such a sensation right about now.

The fourteen-year-old was sitting cross-legged on the slightly-grimy floor of the alley, Megabot lying in its traditional heap a little bit in front of him. He had gone through three rival robots now in the span of five hours, albeit numbly. Transitioning from going out into the ring, waiting for more people to come, and then weaving back into the fray, the teenager had bided his time. The thought of going back home to Aunt Cass while the woman was still awake wasn't anything that he felt like doing. She would stop him and ask questions, and to demand full detail on what happened while he was supposedly out with friends. He had already lied to her about that aspect, and he wasn't keen on adding more lies to the list.

A fourth challenger was approaching, the announcement of their name going ignored by the teenager as well as their entire being. Hiro barely even glanced over their robot before deciding that it would be more than simplistic to defeat with his own— he didn't really feel like delving into things deeper than that knowledge. He wasn't putting on any sort of front either, the teenager much too worn to try and feign nativity in the realm of bot fighting to derive more cash. He simply reached into the pocket of his hoodie, withdrawing the money that he had brought along with him as well as the other stacks that he had won in the past few hours. And the teenager turned, depositing the paper on the tray offered to him by the referee. In the back of his mind, he decided that he would put his winnings into the cash register on his way up tonight. Maybe that would alleviate the sense of guilt that was weighing down on his shoulders by him being here.

The entire crowd had grown almost quiet now as the fight started to begin. Hiro tilted his head slightly, an obscenely-unimpressed look on his face as he saw that his opponent — a rather awkward-looking guy that probably could have stood to lose a few tons — looked more than prepared for the fight, an almost smug look overcoming their face as they leaned closer to the ring. Then the boy's eyes flickered down to the bot, eyebrows rising in a snide way as he looked at the hodgepodge of nuts and bolts that stood a few feet away from Megabot. Such a blatant show of supposed superiority would have offended Hiro on any other night prior to this one, but now the boy just sighed heavily under his breath, sinking back and grabbing up his controls with a suggested roll of the eyes.

As tradition, the referee leaned forward into the circle, leaning out to spin an umbrella between the two fighters. "Two bots enter, one bot leaves!" They called out, an air of mystery to the starting call as the intricate design of the umbrella spun back and forth. Hiro coughed slightly, shaking his head to try and clear it yet again. He could just focus on the fight. Not on the fire. Not on Tadashi. Not on the way that whenever Aunt Cass or Tadashi's old friends looked at him they stared at him like his puppy had just run away. Here there wasn't any hushed conversation about him going on when his back was turned. There weren't any sorrowful looks pointed his way or exchanged between people who caught sight of him. There weren't any of Tadashi's things around to painfully remind him that his brother was gone. It was all just shouts of excitement and money being passed around and robots and tactic. That was all he needed right now.

The fight started as soon as the referee stepped back. The rival, the one that Hiro had completely ignored the name of, leaned forward even more in his excitement, the small excuse for a robot starting towards Megabot, who was still limp against the ground. Hiro deadpanned, his eyes flickering lazily from the other robot to its controller. The others around him, who had seen the small boy fight before, were obviously on the edge with their knowledge, waiting until the boy would make his first — and probably last, if the past was anything to go off of — move. And the boy did of course. Though it was without even a fraction of the excitement and tension that the other seemed to carry at the prospect of a bot fight.

Hiro's disinterested, even bored, look remained plastered on his face, the boy's fingers working mechanically on his controller as he kicked Megabot into motion, the robot shooting up to its feet immediately to charge forward. There were gasps of shock and excitement on those who had just arrived to the fight, who hadn't seen Hiro's work before, but the boy still did not react. Megabot dashed right into the other robot, which was nearly twice as big as he was, as most other robots tended to be at these things. It only served a greater purpose for Hiro though, as Megabot merely climbed straight up the robot's haphazardly-formed body to wrap around the head. It went straight for the kill— no prolonging things with showy effects or stunts.

The owner of the other robot seemed to be caught off-guard by the sudden change. It was how it usually happened. The cycle that normally ran and continued throughout every bot fight that Hiro found himself going to. It was repetitive, Hiro thought, as he merely popped the other bot's head clean off its shoulders. But it was normal, something that Hiro remembered and something that he knew wouldn't change. And he was okay with that he figured, watching as the other robot capsized, its owner's face miles from their prior superiority. Megabot fell down along with the other robot, shooting back up in order to turn around and scamper back to Hiro. The boy leaned out, scooping up the black robot and tucking it away in his hoodie in a synchronized motion as he started to stand.

"The winner is Hiro Hamada!" The referee bellowed, announcing the rather obvious fact as they turned and offered the tray of winnings to the fourteen-year-old. The rival scowled in disappointment, being forced to undergo the shame of having to pick up the pieces of their robot while everybody watched and cheered on the victor, who instead of picking up scrap metal and worthless bolts, got instead to pick up their achieved wad of cash. Well, Hiro could only assume that the other task was shameful— he'd never had to do it before. But while other times he would shrug cockily and probably utter out a phrase or two that would include boasting over his intelligence at the win, now he just took the money and ducked out of the circle of attention hurriedly.

Usually winners tended to stay to challenge anybody who would 'dare' come up to outmatch their fighting robot. But Hiro wasn't in the mood to stay much longer. After all of this, beating four people was enough. The temperature was only dropping more and more the later it got, and with his clothes already being wet from the rain, he was freezing cold. Plus it was nearing midnight. Not that the boy was able to fall asleep easily these days anyway, but his joints were already aching with exhaustion, and he had a long walk in order to get home anyway. He hadn't even counted the stack of money he'd accumulated in the night's proceedings; but he could tell by the weight in the pocket of his hoodie that staying for more wouldn't be needed in the slightest. The break was a needed one, but staying any longer was pointless. There was still a possibility that Aunt Cass was _literally_ waiting for him to return home, probably armed with excited questions over what he had done that night with his friends. She had told him no curfew, but the woman would certainly be furious if he decided to walk in at two or three in the morning.

Hiro shouldered his way through the throng of people surrounding the ring. The teenager flipped his hood back up over his head, ducking down and weaving through the people around him as he started to head back to the exit of the alleyway. As usual, those gathered attempted to stop him, calling out ambiguous shouts like: "Hey kid!" or "Hey stop for a second!" But Hiro ignored them blatantly, keeping his eyes fixed straight forward instead as he stalked out of the backlot. Behind him, he could hear that more people were lining up to fight, and he figured that most of these people would indeed stay until three or four in the morning. He almost wished that something like that were possible for him. The hint of more distractions sent his way in the form of bot fighting sounded more than appealing. But Aunt Cass was waiting— he couldn't do that.

Maybe he could come back tomorrow night.

"Hey!" Hiro scowled as another shout reached his ears, the boy tucking away his robot consciously as he hunched his shoulders forward. He locked his jaw backwards in irritation— the person was probably just going to badger him for secrets in how to get their bot up to par. And he certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with any of 'those' idiots that were around here tonight. But they were persistent as Hiro walked past them, calling out again now as they used his name. "Hey, Hiro!" The boy paused briefly at the use of his name, a flicker of confusion coming over him as he tried to tell by their voice on whether or not he knew them. Curiosity overtook him, and he found himself stopping, turning to the left to look over their way.

The face didn't seem familiar, nor did the friends that were standing on either side of the person. The one who had shouted was some curly redhead that looked a few years older than him at least. She had a tattoo of a star near her right eye, and she grinned a snickering kind of smile as Hiro turned to face her. "Hey there." She greeted warmly, as if they had seen one another before. Hiro didn't reply, merely staring blankly over at her. And after a while, Redhead gave a small laugh, nodding as she raised her arm in a vacant gesture towards him. "Good fight, kid." She chirped, Hiro's eyes landing on the thing she held in her upraised hand as he put his own back into his pockets.

"No thanks." He said flatly, an almost sour look crawling over his features as he looked at the bottle Redhead held crossly.

He started to turn again, to keep walking as he remembered the walk he had home. But Redhead pushed off of the alley way, looking perplexed as she called out, stopping him in his tracks once again as she took a few steps forward. Obviously she wasn't going to let him walk away. Hiro sighed in the back of his throat, turning back for what felt like the millionth time. The next bot fight was starting off to the side— shouldn't she be more concerned with whatever was going on over in that direction? "Hey, wait a second." The tattooed fighter said. "I've watched you bot fight all night and you didn't smile once. Now it might just be me but I think getting all that fat wad of cash would make you grin at least a little bit."

Hiro didn't answer, taking to staring at her silently.

Off to the side, a loud cheering scream rose up from the crowd. Someone must have just won. The boy turned, glancing over and watching passively as one of the fighters — presumably the winner — leapt up to their feet, their hands shooting up into the sky as they gave a thundering cheer, raising their robot up and waving it around for all to look at. A crease slowly appeared in Hiro's forehead, and he paused for the briefest of moments, some of the sadness that he was trying to distract himself from making a comeback as a dark cloud started to hover over the young teenager. Redhead must have seen the odd change, because she cleared her throat loudly. "Catch." She called out, Hiro turning to face her in just enough time to stiffen with surprise, jerking forward and just managing to catch the bottle she threw his way before it could fall and shatter onto the ground. "It's on the house." Redhead added as Hiro straightened, a pinched look on the boy's face.

He locked his jaw backwards. "I don't drink." He said, his words dull as he clenched the glass bottle of alcohol in his hands.

"And I don't give hand-outs." Redhead replied accordingly. "But if any sorry sack needed some of that right now, it'd be you. Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two." Hiro didn't move at this, and she shrugged, offering the younger a peace sign and a grin of her own as she started to go back to her friends. "Good fight, kid." She repeated her words from before. "See ya around maybe." Hiro opened his mouth to say something in response, a sarcastic phrase bubbling up in the back of his throat as he tried to regain some kind of ground that he had lost in staying silent. However Redhead had taken her leave, turning her back and retreating to her group that she had been standing with previously, already rallying together bets for the newest set of bot fighters coming into the ring.

Hiro's joints were locked together, and the fourteen-year-old looked back down to the bottle that he now had clasped in his hands. His brain spluttered for a moment, as if he were unsure of what to do. He glanced back over at the ring, at Redhead, down the alleyway to the street, back down to the bottle. Eventually he shook his head, trying to clear it once more as the young boy turned for the last time, going unstopped now as he headed back out the way that he had come in. Heavy in his jacket's pocket was Megabot and the surplus of money that he had achieved with the many fights he had entered. But even heavier still was the glass bottle that he held in his hands, the small rocking of the liquid that was inside seeming much louder than it actually was as he turned back home.

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The cafe was locked by the time that Hiro finally got back. It was going on to two by now, and apparently Aunt Cass had decided that staying up in order to wait for him was a moot point. Hopefully she just assumed he had stayed at someone's house— it would be easier for her to assume such things rather than Hiro being forced to outright deceive her. But he was more than sure that he would get bombarded with questions in the morning, and the idea caused the teenager's stomach to sink as he went around back to enter the building since the front door had probably been locked hours ago.

Stepping into the now-darkened bakery, Hiro had to narrow his eyes in order to adjust to the dark and see properly. And as promised to himself, after the teenager locked the back door behind him, he went for the register. Entering the required set of numbers to open it — he had learned the code after working here days on end whenever Aunt Cass needed help — he winced as the machine gave out a loud ding as its lower panel shot open. One eye closed and his face pulled into an apprehensive grimace, the teenager's hand hovered over the keypad, biting down on his lower lip as he waited for Aunt Cass to be roused by the noise and come downstairs. If she did, he had no idea what to do, considering he had just walked into the house at two in the morning and he was now opening up the register for presumably no reason. If he was his Aunt, he would certainly have a few questions of his own to pose.

But a few tense minutes passed of the boy remaining stock-still, and there wasn't any appearance of his guardian. Slowly, he released out a small breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, stepping back a little and withdrawing the stack of money he'd gotten during the night. He hadn't counted it up yet, but he figured that putting all of it in would be a _little_ noticeable. But he was sure that a few extra tens or twenties lying around in the machine wouldn't, and so he separated the bills, putting them down into their corresponding sections and tucking the rest away back where they had come. And then he shut the door of the machine, wincing again as he took care in shutting it so that it wouldn't make any more excess noise.

Then he turned and went up the stairs, taking care in skipping the third one, which was always a little creaky when you walked on it. All the lights were on, and as the boy walked past the living room and towards the second set of stairs, it was obvious that Aunt Cass had fallen asleep a long time ago. So Hiro wasted no time in sneaking back up to his room, not bothering to turn on the light as he did so. The teenager was worn out, and there was no doubt that he would have dark circles under his eyes tomorrow morning. It was the first time in a long one that he had been outside of the cafe, and he found himself exhausted with the change of activity— rather than sitting curled up in his room all day motionless, he had walked all the way downtown, stood for more than five hours, and then he'd walked all the way back. It was a large change, and Hiro found himself flopping down onto his bed with a pained huff.

He laid there for a few minutes; his eyes closed as he tried to resist the temptation to turn and look over to the right where he knew for a fact Tadashi's things would be lying. The empty bed, the now-lonely-looking hat sitting atop of it— they were like a heavy reminder that was continuously tapping on the fourteen-year-old's shoulder, begging his unwilling attention. He curled up on his side instead, keeping his back to the opposite end of the room as he stared at the wall._ I__'__ve watched you bot fight all night and you didn__'__t smile once. Now it might just be me but I think getting all that fat wad of cash would make you grin at least a little bit. _Hiro swallowed, blinking as he looked down at his hands, realizing that they were still clenched tightly around the smooth glass of the bottle that Redhead had given him. He'd almost forgotten.

The boy pushed himself up, his face fallen as he stared at the flask he held, turning it on its side routinely, his eyes narrowed slightly as he hesitated. _I don__'__t drink. _He frowned, turning and glancing over to the right, his stomach clenching painfully as he looked at the other end of the room. Any other night and Tadashi would have been in his own bed, turned over on his left side like he always took to sleeping. The room would have been filled with his snoring— Hiro remembered how he had always complained very loudly about the habit of his brother's. It was always something that irritated the younger boy when he was trying to sleep. But now the room was silent, and sleep was even harder to achieve because of that. The room was too empty. Too quiet. Everything was now.

His heart tore on itself as he was painfully reminded that his brother wasn't there anymore. He wasn't there to have conversations with or to talk to or to call if he needed help. He wasn't even there for Hiro to complain to. He was gone. Tadashi was gone. And he wasn't coming back.

_But if any sorry sack needed some of that right now, it__'__d be you. Go ahead and give it a try__— __you might actually offer a smile or two._

Hiro tore his gaze away from the empty side of the room, back down to the bottle. He pulled up his sweatshirt a little bit, spinning his hand around in the fabric of his shirt and bringing the bottle down so that he could wrap the cloth around the top of the glass. The sides of the cap were sharp and they bit into his skin as he twisted hard to the left, and the teenager winced at the little pinpricks of pain that was inflicted by the action. But the cap eventually spun off, Hiro dropping the cap onto the bed and untangling his hand from his shirt as he let out a small sigh. _…__you might actually offer a smile or two__… _Hiro glanced over to the right again. Back down to the bottle.

_…__It can__'__t hurt to try__…__can it?_

And slowly the fourteen-year-old raised the flask to his mouth, wrapping his lips thinly around the dip of the glass and tipping it backwards. Immediately, he choked, hunching forward and dropping his arm so that he could cough heavily into the crook of his arm, trying to stifle the noise as much as he could. His throat burned from the initial swallow of the amber liquid, and Hiro grimaced deeply at the sensation that it brought with the first swallow. But as he waited and got his breath back, he realized that even from the first gulp, he was left with a slightly lighter sort of feeling— a little bit warmer one. One that was vastly different from the heavy burden he had been dragging behind him ever since the fire. He looked down at the bottle in frank apprehension, pausing briefly before attempting the feat again, raising the bottle back up to his lips and taking down another sip. And again, the feeling returned with the drink, stronger in the most minuscule sense.

And cautiously, finding the sensation growing stronger and stronger, and suddenly realizing the connection, Hiro took more and more sips of the amber liquid, finding the action coming easier and easier as the warm feeling started to expand, filling his chest and wrapping around him entirely. And sitting in the darkly-lit room on his bed, swallowing down the alcohol that had been offered to him earlier in the night, Hiro found that the pressing attention that had been tugging his eyes over to the right side of the room got smaller and smaller, until eventually he didn't feel as if he had to look over in that direction anymore.

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A/N: Thank you for reading all of this! I really suck at summaries, so the fact that you've gotten this far is great. This is the newest idea of mine that is under construction, and this is more or less just serving as the primary introduction. There is a lot more to come, more than I could fit into the summary, so I hope you all are as excited for what's going to happen as I am! There is going to obviously be underage things. Such as drinking or possible drug use. So please be aware of that :)

But I hope that you like it! And I hope I can hear from you in a review before I post the next chapter~!


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark. The boy, rendered prostrate, couldn't see a single inch in front of his face, left staring out into pitch blackness. A heaviness hung over the boy, a sore kind of sensation that pressed down uncomfortably in every direction, seeming to not leave any space to breathe as the child took in irregular, shallow huffs. He grimaced deeply, attempting to move but coming up useless as he couldn't manage the simple task. He felt as if he were hunched into the ground, a heavy burden slung over his back that prevented him from pushing himself back up to his feet. A small groan escaped Hiro's throat, the teenager struggling to move or breathe correctly, finding that the longer he crouched against the floor, the harder the ideas seemed to get.

There was a dull crackling noise— one that seemed to be coming from the back of the teenager's mind rather than somewhere in the blackness around him. The fuzzy snaps and pops caused the boy to become acutely aware of the pounding that was taking place in his head, the boy ducking his chin down close to his chest as he grimaced once more, another small noise of discomfort worming out from his closed mouth. Confusion was alive in every movement the boy struggled to manage, those that he did coming across slow and gradual, as if he were moving through some kind of syrup. Fuzziness clouded his senses, and for a moment all that existed was the uncomfortable position and the sensation that it brought, the boy left hopeless against the dark around him as he hung his head.

"…Hiro…!"

The boy stiffened at the sudden appearance of another voice, his eyes, which had previously been closed, snapping open at the sound of his name. Painfully, slowly, Hiro struggled to move his head in order to look up, his eyes dilating into panicked slits as his fingernails dug into the ground. His breath caught in the middle of his throat, the boy floundering for any sort of movement now as he tried to push against whatever kind of force was holding him down. His heartbeat picked up instantly, his body rushing with heat that only seemed to grow sharper against his struggles.

Again, the shout echoed its way over, louder than it had been before. "…Hiro!" His name was called yet again, and the boy in question gasped shallowly at the tone of voice, his chest aching in a searing way as he strained to see through the dimness around him. It was nearly impossible to do so though, the teenager aching with the frustration of his apparent immobility. He leaned forward, reaching out for the voice again, to try and locate where it was coming from— who it was coming from. For surely it couldn't be…

As the voice increased in volume, so did the fuzzy haze of noise around Hiro, the snapping and slight crackling noises rising into a soft roar on all sides of his hunched figure. As Hiro tried to move up from the ground, the rush of hot adrenaline from hearing the shout of his name didn't fade away, rather persisting only to get progressively worse as grew into a prickling, stinging sensation. The scenery around him changed, the pitch blackness around him growing ever so lighter, with a torrid kind of orange glow. The air around him grew hotter, denser and blacker against the orange light around him. And quickly, Hiro's ragged, uneven breathing hitched as horror gripped the young boy's heart in piercingly-cold claws.

Realization dawned on the teenager as the boy began to fall into panic, his body breaking into fits of tremors as he gasped in and out sharply. He was on the floor of the SFIT Showcase, large flames surrounding him and licking at every inch of the large building. Smoke hung thick in the air, and as Hiro attempted to take in another gasp he immediately choked, doubling over in a hacking cough instead. The roar of the fire was ear-splitting, and Hiro winced deeply as the window nearest to him shattered from the sheer amount of heat, glass raining down to the floor and peppering over him in a painful fashion.

The fourteen-year-old struggled to get up to his feet. He had to run; he had to make it out before the entire building collapsed on itself. But his hands were rooted to the floor as the flames grew nearer, catching light on his jacket and crawling up his arm in rapid succession. He couldn't move a single muscle; every time he tried doing so only caused the heat around him to increase tenfold, the flames spreading with quicker accuracy and deadliness. The boy gasped in the smoke rapidly, falling into the trap of hyperventilation that was only disrupted by hoarse series of coughs. He was going to burn. He was going to die. He was going to—

"…Hiro!"

The boy jerked at the call again, his heart aching as his head managed to snap up in response. He struggled to take in enough air to call back, his chest constricting on itself in his efforts. "T-" He broke off, unable to finish his sentence as he ducked down in order to gag on the smoke that was filling up his lungs. He couldn't get in enough air get out a single syllable. But horror and pain made quick work in filling him to the brim, and the teenager's voice broke in sheer desperation. He knew that voice. He knew it like the back of his hand. And yet he couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even call out to it. "Ta-"

The door on the far end of the room burst open, Hiro's streaming eyes barely able to make out the coherent sight of what was in front of him. But sure enough, though far away and dim through the smoke, Hiro yelled out, the noise that ripped from his throat something akin to a sob as he staggered in holding himself up. Tadashi stood in the doorway near the other end of the room, the older brother's eyes alight with worry and fear as his eyes drilled immediately to where Hiro was crouched. Again, there came the shout, the achingly familiar voice quite literally stabbing through the younger. "Hiro!"

Finally, voice raw from the amount of smoke that was being inhaled, Hiro managed to force the yell out of his throat. "Tadashi!" He screamed, his shoulders shaking up and down unevenly as his eyes blurred even more at the sight of his older brother. Tadashi started running, sprinting towards his baby brother faster than seemed possible, shouting his name over and over like it was some kind of mantra, like it would help in some way. "Hiro!" Tadashi yelled, skirting around as much of the flames as he could as he tried to rush for the younger child. "Hiro— Hiro hold on!" He screamed. "I've got you! Just—"

Hiro shook his head, holding back yet another gag as he tried to jerk forward, or at least lift up his arm in a signal to stop. "No, you—" He broke off, grimacing briefly but forcing himself to go on. "Tadashi, turn back…" The boy just barely managed the full sentence, his raw throat not allowing his voice to rise over anything more than a mere rasp by now. His older brother continued to run for him, and Hiro's arms started to shake, the boy slouching slightly as he struggled to get out a shout loud enough. "Tadashi, you have to…—" The floor underneath Hiro started to shake, and he leaned forward slightly, struggling to raise his voice so that he could be heard over the flames. "You have to…" He winced. "You're going to…" He couldn't finish a single thought.

Tadashi was nearly reaching him now. Hiro's vision, unfocused by the smoke and blurred over by watering tears, centered on the image of his older brother. He was soot-streaked, his eyes bright red from the irritation brought on by the fire, but he was exactly like Hiro had remembered him to be. There was a bright smile on his face despite that gruesome scene surrounding them, and his eyes were softened along with their worry and panic as they trained themselves on him. Once the elder started to near him, he reached out for Hiro, as if to run forward and scoop him up into his arms. Hiro made a small noise in the back of his throat, forcing his right arm into motion as the young boy started to lift it up, moving through the thick sensation of syrup as he forcibly yanked his arm off the floor to stretch towards his bother. He leaned forward as much as he could, his joints aching as he tried to reach Tadashi. If he could just reach him…if he could just get up from the floor with Tadashi…

But as soon as Tadashi's fingertips grazed Hiro's own, as soon as Hiro released a sobbing laugh of relief, and as soon as Tadashi started to stoop down in order to gather him off of the ground, there was the explosion. It ripped its way through the very universe, the walls of the building splitting apart as glass and debris erupted from every corner of the Showcase. Tadashi's eyes met Hiro's for the briefest of moments, the older brother's eyes widening just a fraction of a size as he looked down at the younger. Hiro's mouth stretched open, a silent scream of mortification coming from the boy as he watched Tadashi being flung backwards, knocked off of his feet and thrown back into the pit of the flames.

His older brother was gone in an instant, the smoke rushing forward to blind Hiro in blackness once more as the teenager slipped, falling back down against the ground and yelling sharply as the flames that had previously been skirting around him rushed in, crawling over his small figure and catching light on his clothes. But the shouts that came from the boy were void of the sensation, the child only managing screams of incoherent grief, limp against the ground and rendered of movement once again as he burned in the college Showcase, calling out desperately. "Tadashi!" He screamed into the floor, the blasts of explosions ripping through his ears as he shouted. "Tadashi, come back! Help me! Tadashi…! …Tadashi….!"

**Tadashi!**

Hiro woke up in a spasm, the boy's eyes snapping open wide as he gasped shallowly. The teenager's brain was haywire, confused and racing as he painstakingly became aware of his surroundings and what was going on. And when the boy realized what had happened, that it was all just a nightmare, he heaved shaky sighs in and out, struggling to get his breathing back under control. He lifted up shaking hands to press the heels of his palms against his eyes, squeezing them shut as tight as he could as he swallowed back a lump in his throat. He lay in bed unmoving for many minutes as he struggled to reign himself back in, frustration clawing at the back of his throat as his eyes pricked and burned. He ducked his head down close to his chest, the boy's small form shaking as small sobs escaped from under his breath.

The nightmare was like a cobweb he couldn't clear in the back of his head, and as the boy lowered his arms, his eyes automatically strayed over to Tadashi's bed, now predictably empty. The teenager's face encompassed obscene amounts of grief as he stared dismally at the neatly-folded blankets and perfectly-arranged pillows that were across from him. His vision blurred as he stared at the bed, and he raised his arm once more to try and brush away any sort of water that might be forming before it could track their way down his face. …It wasn't fair. It wasn't. None of this was. The thought didn't help in his effort to stave away the tears building behind his eyelids. So he shook his head quickly, struggling to force himself to push aside the emotions before they could further any more than they already had.

Morning sunlight streamed its way through the blinds over his windows, but the prospect of a bright-looking day did nothing for the teenager. Hiro turned and curled up on his side, putting his back to the painful sight that was on the other side of the room as he faced away from Tadashi's half. Instead he stared bleakly at his desk, silent and passive for what felt like an age as his face fell further and further. And, after a total of about fifteen minutes of lying still on his side, Hiro perked slightly, raising his head off of his pillow to look at the things on his desk more accurately. And sure enough, the thing was still lying there.

The boy shuffled over to the edge of his bed, turning and placing his feet on the ground in order to stand up. His head spun briefly at the sudden change, and he leaned over to grab the edge of his desk briefly to wait out the small dizzy spell. There was a dull headache that throbbed in the center of his eyes, evoking a reaction of pain as the young boy cringed a little bit. But he shook this off as best he could as well, a frown on his face as he skirted around his computer chair. Among the books and papers that were strewn over his workstation a little haphazardly, there was a small envelope, laying neat and orderly among the mess around it. The crest was familiar to Hiro, all too familiar as he reached down to pick it up gingerly. It was the recommendation letter he had received to get into Tadashi's college. The one he had gotten in return for his demonstration of his Microbots. The boy locked his jaw backwards at the reminder, staring down at the thing as he turned it over repeatedly in his hands.

He swallowed thickly, the lump returning once again as he stood stock-still, his gaze slowly starting to smolder and burn as his grip got a little tighter on the paper. His hands began to shake, breaking out into tremors as the crest stared straight back at him. How many times had he dreamed about the fire? How many times had he been forced to remember Tadashi's death? How many times had he stared at his brother's things and how many times had he wished that he could come back? The shaking in Hiro's hands grew more violent with each thought, and the envelope's edges started to cave in now as he clenched his hands into tight fists. He thought of that way that Tadashi had helped him through his presentation of his Microbots. He thought of how Tadashi had grinned at him, the way he had said: 'Welcome to Nerd School.' He thought of that way that Tadashi had started to run into the burning school building, how Hiro had tried to hold him back, had tried to stop him. He'd tried to stop him. He'd tried. But he didn't try hard enough. And now because of the Showcase…because of the fire…because of this stupid college…

Before he could even register what he was doing, Hiro was ripping the envelope. In half, into fours, into eights, into twelfths and sixteenths, twentieths; he ripped it over and over until he couldn't rip it into any more pieces. The letter now reduced to the smallest scraps of paper possible, which littered the ground in heaps. Hiro was breathing heavily, the boy slowly letting his arms fall to his sides and staggering slightly as he leaned against the wooden desk, his face crestfallen as he looked down at the mess. In the back of his mind, he knew he should probably clean it all up before Aunt Cass saw. But as the thought occurred, and even as the thought registered, Hiro made no move to crouch down to the ground. He merely stared at the mass of paper, feeling absolutely nothing. Not remorse. Not vengeance. Not satisfaction. Not happiness. Just….nothing.

He stood for a few minutes, unmoving as he stared down at the mess, as if it were something foreign to him. But then he gave a slow sigh out through the mouth, turning and looking over to his bed, which was only left only slightly rumpled since the boy hadn't even bothered to cover up last night. He hadn't even changed out of his other clothes— he was still wearing the same outfit that he had journeyed downtown with last night. Unable to remember falling asleep was odd, considering that for the boy sleep was oftentimes hard to come by now. Hiro had adopted somewhat of a makeshift form of insomnia after the night of the fire; although with the dream that he'd had, the boy would have much rather preferred staying awake over falling asleep.

He paced back to his bed, catching sight of the thing that he had looked over until now— the thing that he had almost forgotten was there in the first place. Glancing over to the stairs and pausing in order to listen, Hiro tried to catch wind of whether or not Aunt Cass was up yet. Usually it was hard to tell, especially when he knew that Cass had the habit of staying especially quiet whenever she was under the impression that Hiro was finally sleeping. He didn't hear any noises though, such as the small pattering of footsteps or the subtle creak of any floorboards. So Hiro turned back, reaching over and picking up the forgotten item with a small flip of his stomach.

He hadn't meant to drink whatever Redhead had given him— the boy distinctly remembered coming up with a plan on the way home to throw it away in a manner that wouldn't alert Aunt Cass to anything suspicious. Because certainly the last thing that Aunt Cass needed was to be worrying over something like this with him, coupled with everything else that was probably already on her mind. Once he had started to take minimal sips of the alcohol, the plan had then changed to just that bare minimum— he was going to at least try it and then he would revert to Plan A and sneak it out the back. When had it gotten so far away from him that he had finished the entire bottle of liquor? He turned, looking down at his sheets just to make sure that he hadn't just spilled the contents somewhere, which led to the bottle being so empty. But no; there wasn't a single drop to be spared anywhere. This must be the reason for the headache that had settled itself in the front center of his brain.

He gave out another shaking sigh, reaching up to rub at his forehead as he stared down at the empty glass in his hand. His thoughts flashed back to what the girl had said as she literally threw the drink his way, the coy sort of smile that she flashed to him before just taking her leave. It had been so random, so weird. Why hadn't he just left the drink there? 'Go ahead and give it a try— you might actually offer a smile or two.' …It had worked. Short-term at least; usually the boy formed the habit of staying awake all night, on his side as he stared over at Tadashi's empty bed. He'd gone days without sleep recently, and last night had been one of the first nights where he had actually slept uninterrupted until morning. The nightmare persisted to linger in the back of his mind like a shadow, but before that, when he had first started to delve into the drink, his mind had been put to rest, and he had been able to tear his thoughts away from his brother— something that he hadn't had the ability to do at all recently.

…Had he just needed more of the drink to drown out the dreams as well?

The thought came with a chilling feeling, the boy's grip on the glass in his hands tightening ever so slightly. His eyes flickered over to the other side of the room, to Tadashi's things. A lump formed back in his throat like a hard knot, and the young boy's mind started to kick into gear. He looked back down at the bottle, but before he could draw any kind of conclusion, his heart immediately dropped as he became aware of slow footsteps coming up the stairs. Freezing briefly, Hiro spun around, eyes wide as they immediately took to darting around the room for a spot to hide the evidence. They landed on his dresser and before he could hesitate any longer, the boy darted over, ripping out one of the cabinets and hurriedly stuffing away the bottle of alcohol under the mass of folded clothes, disrupting whatever kind of order there was inside previously.

He patted down the clothing rapidly so that the thing would remain out of sight, slamming the drawer shut just a millisecond before Aunt Cass came into view. Expectedly, she was armed with breakfast, like she has been every day since the night of the fire. She must have been taking special care to be quiet, because Hiro hadn't even heard the slightest movement from the kitchen. His aunt took care in stepping lightly, her eyes trained down on her feet as if she were making sure that she didn't slip up and trip. But she perked in surprise as she saw Hiro up already, her eyes widening briefly as the baker stopped short. Hiro saw that she was carrying an enormous waffle, nearly the size of the entire plate she had in her hands. Predictably, the idea of food did nothing but cause the boy's stomach to clench in on itself. But he tried not to show either the disgust he felt for the meal or the guilt at his hiding things from Cass, wiping his face of any evidence that could incriminate him in any way.

"Hiro!" Aunt Cass said, finishing walking up the steps now as she came to a stop a few feet away from him. "I didn't think that you would be up yet." Nowadays, the boy had taken to staying in bed, prolonging the movements of the day as he holed away. That or he would only get up enough to change clothes and then go to sit on his windowsill or in his chair. But Aunt Cass wasn't indicating those instances, it turned out. "You were gone so late last night— I was going to wait for you, but you never came home." There was a beat of silence as the pair stared at one another, and when Hiro didn't make any kind of move to reply to her, she cleared her throat, offering him a small smile. "Did you…did you have fun last night? I want to hear all about it!"

The fourteen-year-old's stomach sank to his feet as his Aunt smiled widely, the woman looking excited over the prospect of hearing the boy launch into a tale about video games or college or parks or walks. His eyes briefly flashed over to the drawer in which he had shoved the bottle of liquor in, and he inhaled quickly, straightening as he looked back at Cass, forcing his lips to curl upwards in what he hoped was a genuine-looking smile. "Um— yeah, yeah it was great." He started, feeling awful as the lies started to slip out from his mouth. And the feeling only worsened as Aunt Cass' grin got bigger and bigger, the woman growing more optimistic as he went on, though he struggled to make it as short as he possibly could. "I met up with them and then we went to…" He grasped for a name. "Honey's house. We played some games and had dinner. It wasn't much….but…." He trailed off, clearing his throat and offering a small shrug.

"That sounds great, honey!" Aunt Cass beamed, thrilled at the prospects — however minimal — that Hiro had offered. "What did you have for dinner?" Hiro fought the urge to wince away as questions started to rain down quicker than he could fathom. "What games did you play? Did you and the others talk about anything? I'm so glad that you're hanging out with them again; they were always so concerned when they came by to see you before! Oh, this is just so great!" Aunt Cass turned, starting to set the plate of food down on the desk. Hiro stiffened as she started to turn, realizing that the mess he had left after ripping up the letter was still all over the floor.

Quickly, Hiro jerked forward to stand in between her and the shredded paper, grinning a little awkwardly now as she pulled back slightly. But before she could say anything, he dashed forward, grabbing the plate from her and holding it close to himself, as if he were suddenly eager to eat. "Yeah, it's great." He replied, forcing out a quick bubble of laughter as he shifted to ensure that Cass wouldn't see the mess. "Actually, I was thinking I could go back out with them again tonight. ….Fred said something about that movie you mentioned before. We might go out and see it. And have dinner; they seemed really excited about it." Glancing over his guardian and taking a calculated move, he added on: "But I told them you might want me to stay home after I came home so late before, so…" He trailed off, leaving room for the objection that would no doubt come.

"Oh no, no no no no no." She said in a rush, waving him off in a dismissal. "No, you don't have to stay here tonight. If you want to go out to eat and hang out with your friends then that's perfectly okay. Whatever makes you happy, honey, that's perfectly fine with me. Whatever you want." She smiled, clasping her hands together warmly at the sight of her nephew, as if he had suddenly changed into someone much different. But then she paused, blinking as she suddenly started to look him up and down. "…You're wearing the same clothes as you were yesterday?" She asked, tilting her head to the side a little bit.

Hiro looked down at himself, as if he had just realized this himself. "…I must have not changed last night." He said slowly, blinking. "I came back really late last night, so I just…fell asleep in them. I'll change real quick and then I can leave for Wasabi's house. He wanted to show me around before we left….so…."

Aunt Cass blinked, her face falling somewhat. "You're leaving already?" She asked.

"Yeah." Hiro said, a little too quickly. Wincing inwardly, he backtracked. "I mean…yes, yeah I'm gonna try and get to Wasabi's before lunch. He said that he'd make me something. He's uh…he's trying out some new recipes. He cooks, and he wanted me to judge some new stuff. So…" The lies were stringing out of Hiro's mouth as if he wasn't in control of them, more and more accumulating and weighing down on his conscience. He shifted his weight from side to side; why couldn't Cass just leave and let it all lie? The sudden thought — meaner than what the boy usually let cross his mind — was a little disconcerting. But he brushed it aside quickly; he just wanted to be able to leave, that was all. So he shook his head to clear it, coughing briefly before adding on: "I'll get back earlier tonight. I promise."

"Oh…" Cass mumbled, looking at her nephew carefully for a moment. But then she gave a quick nod, brightening at the vow as she smiled. "Okay! I'll see you later then; I'm pretty sure we still have some ice cream in the freezer! Maybe when you get home we can crack it open and have some!" Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but she started up again before he could. "Hey I've got an idea— how about tomorrow night we do something to celebrate? I can make some of your favorite hot wings! You know, the kind that makes your face all numb?" She made a funny face as if to demonstrate this, and Hiro tried to offer yet another forced grin at the action. "We could rent a movie! …Maybe we could start thinking more about registering you for college?" She hesitated briefly before asking this part, and Hiro could see the small, nervous flash that went through her eyes.

Hiro cringed mentally, but on the outside all he did was offer another nervous smile. "Sure. Maybe."

It seemed to be enough for Cass though. The woman gushed; if Hiro didn't know her any better, he would have thought that her eyes were slightly more watery than they normally were as she smiled at him. But before he could try to make sure, she leaned over, wrapping him into a tight hug as she held him close, taking care not to disrupt the plate of food that was still in Hiro's hands. While any other time, the boy would have felt at least a little touched by the embrace, now all he did was stay still, face falling now as he didn't have to force any more smiles. His expression grew sad as he stared over Cass' shoulder to the opposite wall, his head ducking slightly as his shoulders slumped. The facade of happiness and contentment that he put on while talking with Cass slipped faster than he had managed to draw it together in the first place.

He couldn't take this. He didn't want to stand here and lie to Aunt Cass. But he didn't want to just stay here and mope either. He wanted the way that things used to be, he wanted the way that things had been before. He wanted to be happy again, he wanted to get this heavy weight off of him. He wanted Tadashi. The thought caused his eyes to water once more, and he quickly had to swallow everything back as Aunt Cass started to pull back, the boy knowing that if the guardian caught sight of the change, she would only ask more questions. By now every inch of him wanted to just get out of the house— to leave and walk and walk and walk away. Downtown, uptown, anywhere other than here. Just as long as he could get out.

Aunt Cass leaned down and planted a small kiss on his cheek, reaching up to draw a hand lovingly through his hair. She said a few more things, but Hiro wasn't really paying attention, only waiting and watching as the woman gradually turned and went back downstairs. She had tried to offer a ride to Wasabi's house, but Hiro had declined it just like he had last night. But if the woman thought such a thing was shifty, she didn't point it out before heading down to the cafe. It would open soon, and she had to do the last few touches to the place before letting the public inside.

Once she left, Hiro turned around to open his drawers again. He pointedly looked away from where he had hidden the bottle of alcohol, not even glancing over in its direction as he chose out a new outfit to wear. It wasn't really on his list of priorities, but if Aunt Cass glimpsed him coming downstairs in the same attire, she would probably stop him again. So he picked out jeans and a random shirt, keeping his same hoodie on. He thought of bending down to get his other jacket that he had thrown underneath his bed after the night of the fire. It was more comfortable, and it was the thing that he usually wore when he went outside. But as the memory of his dream resurfaced again as he changed, he knew that the last thing he wanted was to put on that specific coat. Besides— his hoodie still had in its front pocket Megabot and the rest of the money that he had won last night and decided to keep.

The boy turned and went down the sets of stairs, skirting around the chairs of the cafe and making his way for the door. Of course he was stopped short by Aunt Cass, the woman reaching out and turning him back around to smile and inform him how glad she was for about the millionth time. She said something about the hot wings again and asked Hiro to tell her how the movie went. Hiro mumbled out what he hoped were good enough responses, staring through his Aunt and quite literally past her as he simply waited for her to finish. And she did, with yet another loving smile and yet another chirp of: "Last hug!" in which she pulled him close to her and kissed the crown of his head again. She didn't ask if he had eaten his waffle and she didn't ask what time exactly he would be home. She just watched her nephew duck out of her arms, the incessant smile remaining on her face as she watched Hiro walk away from the cafe, his hands slipping into the front of his hoodie as he made for what she could only assume was the direction to Wasabi's house. She didn't actually know where the young man lived.

But then again, neither did Hiro.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

He had waited all day. After retracing his steps from last night, Hiro had bided his time for as long as he could, lingering in the alley backlot and simply watching. He'd never been to places like these — places that hosted bot fights — during the day. Predictably, it was void of pretty much anyone. Times were strictly regulated thanks to the possibility of the police showing up, which led to a rather vacant space at noon. Usually bot fights started once the sun went down and the streetlights flickered to life, so the boy took a seat in the one of the corners of the passageway, drawing his legs up to his chest and balancing his chin on the tops of his knees as he sat.

The boy's face was drawn and almost haunted as he leaned against the brick wall, the scenes of his dream replaying in the back of his eyes like a video that couldn't end. The child continuously had to shake his head free of the images, his stomach curling and causing him to feel ill as he thought of Tadashi's panicked face, the way that Hiro hadn't been able to get to his feet to run or to help in any way, the way that as soon as he had started to reach for his older brother they had been forced apart. And the blast…it had sounded just like the one from before, the explosion that had literally ripped his older brother away from him. The thought caused his heart to ache, his chest feeling as though someone were carving through it with a dull knife.

Why hadn't he tried harder to stop Tadashi? Why hadn't he grabbed his brother's arm in a tight vice, clung to his wrist and refused to let go of him? His brother might have decided to go anyway, but with the extra weight that Hiro could have added, there might have been a chance that he wouldn't have made it inside before the explosion. There was a chance that Tadashi could have lived. That he could still be here with him and not somewhere else where Hiro couldn't follow. The teenager grimaced deeply, as if the ideas caused him physical pain, ducking down so that his forehead was plastered to his knees instead. He closed his eyes tightly, curling closer to himself and trying to force his mind away from the incessant thoughts. But they had been occurring for far too long, and after the recent nightmare that the boy had experienced, getting rid of them was like trying to stop it from raining when was cloudy outside.

So he did his best to try and wait it all out. Hiro watched for the sun to go down, passing the hours by merely sitting and staring down at the ground, his back aching from being hunched over and his throat slowly becoming raw from swallowing thickly. It passed quickly enough— Hiro had started to become quite skilled at losing track of time nowadays. It occurred to the fourteen-year-old that had he stayed at home and then departed for downtown like he had yesterday, he would be doing the same thing: just sitting in one spot and staring. At least this way, he didn't worry Aunt Cass. Quite the opposite now, considering the woman was under the impression that he was out with friends now. She was over the moon with her supposed knowledge that her nephew was getting better, or at least starting to move past Tadashi's death.

Hiro was very gifted at lying. He could lock eyes with someone, smile widely, and lie through his teeth. After all, part of the reason that he'd gotten so much money first starting out at bot fights was making it seem like he was some stupid kid way out of his depth, only to really bring truth into the situation once the stakes were high enough for profit. But he didn't like doing it to Aunt Cass. He'd never made a habit out of it before, but now it seemed like it was all he could manage. It had started out as almost simple things. White lies that were answers such as: "Yeah, I'm fine." or "Sure, I'll have something to eat." or "No, I slept well." And now it was just starting to get gradually more out of hand. It didn't really help his morale to know that it was just getting worse. He tried to tell himself that it'd work out eventually. After all, the only reason he was out here was attempting to distract himself, and ultimately for the effort of fixing the things that were in shambles around him. So what if it wasn't along the line of what he'd said in being with friends? When things worked out, it didn't really matter how they got there, after all.

Once the sun set down below the horizon, and once the sounds of traffic out in the main street dwindled down, the crowd started to roll in. Hiro kept to his corner, his knees drawing tighter into his chest as he watched every person that filed in. Those that caught his eye, and those who apparently could connect him to his previous visits, had mixed reactions to his being there. Some grinned and gestured over his way. Others weren't so excited at the prospect of him, looking disappointed or sullen as they shot glares his way. No doubt their hopes of winning with their robots were dashed at the sight of the small kid. But he ignored the reactions to his presence— that wasn't why he was here.

Gradually the backlot, which had been so empty when Hiro had first arrived, filled itself to the brim. People started to gather around in their customary circle near the center of the clearing, and those who had reserved for fights held their fighting robots close to themselves with an eagerness that Hiro had once experienced as well, what seemed like a long time ago. The boy made no move to get up and join as people started to thrum with conversation and pre-bets for what was to conspire. He didn't chime in with his own opinion on who might win tonight, and he didn't even get up to his feet to even sidle a teeny bit closer. In fact, as the first pair of bot fighters took their place sitting on either sides of the circle, Hiro was looking in any other possible direction.

The boy's eyes were narrowed slightly as they skimmed through the crowd gathered, looking almost confused as his head tilted from side to side, stretching his neck awkwardly as he peered around those standing in front of him. He looked from wall to wall, feeling a small sense of frustration starting to curl in his stomach as time stretched on. The first bot fight came to a close— the winner being someone who went on to win three other bot fights before being finally beaten. And all the while Hiro's eyes flickered back and forth, drilling through the mass of people to scour the alley from corner to corner.

He was starting to think that his day was wasted. That being here was stupid and he had just spent so long waiting for absolutely nothing. The boy was getting ready to scream in frustration, to tear out his hair over the entire situation surrounding him. But then his eyes finally caught onto the person he was looking for, the boy freezing immediately as recognition caused his joints to lock together tightly. It was the girl from before— the one that had stopped him on his way back home last night. She was with the same group of people she had been with previously, her eyes trained over in the direction of the bot fights that were taking place. Her mouth moved every so often as she talked with her friends that were standing around her, but she didn't seem to notice if she realized that Hiro was looking her way. And the boy certainly did have his gaze narrowed in on her fixedly.

Surprisingly, after coming all this way in order for this sole purpose, Hiro remained where he was for a moment or two, his eyes slightly widened as he looked down at himself. Moving his arm and reaching into the front pocket of his sweatshirt, Hiro felt the two things that were still stowed inside— Megabot and the money he'd gotten yesterday. He bit his lower lip, hesitating briefly as he remained where he was. He didn't know what kept him there, or what kept him from leaping up to his feet immediately at the sight of the person he had been searching for. He bit down on his lower lip, an uncomfortable expression coming over his features as he agonized where he sat. But he shook his head firmly. It wasn't like he was doing anything bad— he was trying to help things. He wasn't hurting anybody and he certainly wasn't causing any kind of feud or dispute. It was perfectly fine; all of it was.

So after the brief pause, Hiro pushed himself up to his feet. Predictably, his joints protested, his bones squeezing tightly in pain as the boy started to move after being crouched down for so long. But he brushed off the slight discomfort, only giving a soft wince every so often as he sidled around those whose attention was trained firmly on the bot fights in the center of the chaos. He clasped his hands together tightly underneath the cover of his jacket, and he swallowed uncomfortably as he got closer to where the Redhead was loitering. Again, he told himself that it was fine. That nothing was wrong. He wasn't hurting anyone— not in the slightest. It was all fine.

The girl with the tattoo under her eye was laughing at something one of her friends had said, turning over with a wide smirk to look back at the person who had presumably spoken. But as she turned in order to glance back at them, she was cut short as her gaze caught onto Hiro, who was a few mere feet away from her now. She perked as her eyes locked with his own, and Hiro drew himself up quickly at the contact. There was a small beat of silence in the group, the friends that were lingering around Redhead seeming a tad confused at the sight of the young teenager. Redhead, however, didn't even look a tad bit surprised at his appearance.

She grinned a little crookedly, raising her eyebrows. "Hey— Grumpy's back." She laughed. "I was wondering if you'd be here tonight." There was a brief pause, the girl waiting for Hiro to speak, but when the boy started to open his mouth, whatever he had to say was drowned out as the crowd surrounding the ring gave out screams of applause in reaction to something that must have happened during the fight. The boy stiffened with surprise at the sudden roar, but Redhead just grinned wider. "I don't see you out there with your little bot." She commented. "What? You aren't feeling up to par tonight? Certainly kicked some tail the other one."

"What were you doing?" Hiro asked, painfully blunt as Redhead shut her mouth in faint bemusement. But ensuring that any awkwardness was diverted from wasn't really on the boy's list of priorities. Not at the moment, anyway. He shook his head a little bit, backtracking as he tried to correct himself. The rather vague question wasn't all that smart in the first place he realized as the other friends around Redhead eyed him skeptically. "I mean…last night." He said lamely, feeling like the world's biggest idiot. "What did you give me?"

Redhead raised her eyebrows again. The left side of her mouth twitched up to form almost a smile. "Well hello to you too." She quipped, though if it was supposed to be a joke, Hiro didn't respond accordingly. "What— the bottle? It was just some beer; it wasn't anything special, I just grabbed it before I left home." She seemed about to drop the subject, but then she straightened again, another grin working over her lips as she narrowed her eyes Hiro's way in a judgmental stare. "Don't tell me you've never had something like that before!" She said snidely, and once Hiro didn't make a move to correct her, she gave a short laugh. "Aren't you in high school at least, kid? You can't get through high school without at least sipping a tiny touch of alcohol."

Hiro didn't reply, keeping his lips drawn into a tight line. The answer was obvious of course— he hadn't even experienced anything like what he had the night before. Tadashi would have been caught dead before Hiro had been allowed any kind of things like this; all throughout high school, his free time was spent in the presence of his older brother, and rarely anybody else. He hadn't wanted to know about other kids; he hadn't wanted to go to parties, he hadn't wanted to socialize, and he hadn't wanted…well…anything, really. He spent his time with Tadashi, having his older sibling drive him out for ice cream and spending nights on their separate beds talking about school or activities or things like that. He'd been satisfied with no friends and no social life— he didn't need parties to get through high school and he hadn't needed 'a tiny touch of alcohol.' He'd had Tadashi instead. And now…

The thought caused yet another dull knife to stab into his chest. He ducked his head low in a small wince, attempting to hide the expression that flickered over his face as he reached into his hoodie instead. His hand delved around Megabot, instead clutching tightly onto the paper that was behind the robot. Before he could give himself any other kind of hesitation, any other opportunity for his thoughts to get away from him again, Hiro pulled out the money and jerked his arm forward a little awkwardly to extend over to Redhead. He didn't know the exact amount that was in his hand after he'd donated some to the cash register. But he knew that it was enough, and the boy locked his jaw backwards as his shoulders grew stiff with tension. Not hurting anybody. Not causing any problems. He just needed it. Needed a distraction. Needed a way to stop his chest from being torn apart. That was all.

Redhead's eyes flickered down the money, and there was no mistaking the flash of recognition that went over her features. But when she spoke again, her voice was cool and collected. "Hmmm." She pushed off from the alley wall, offering an excuse to her friends, who merely turned away from the sight as the older girl walked over instead the few feet it took to be closer to Hiro. The fourteen-year-old shifted a little bit, swallowing uncomfortably for the umpteenth time as he started to take his arm back slightly, thinking that he had maybe made a mistake. But once Redhead departed from her friends and came to a stop nearer to him, she reached over, plucking the stack of paper from the boy's hands and looking down in order to sift through the bills.

Hiro waited tensely. Redhead continued to count and recount the stack, the young boy growing more and more on-edge as the silence was stretched. Off to the side, there arose another roaring cheer from the crowd, but once again the fourteen-year-old didn't even spare a glance in its general direction. Desperate to break the silence, he cleared his throat a little bit, shifting his weight from foot to foot briefly. "You said you didn't give hand-outs before." The boy reminded, recalling the girl's own words from the night before. "…This way it isn't a hand-out." There was a second more in which neither of the two spoke, so, in order to break it, Hiro added a little bluntly: "I have money."

"Yeah, I see that." Redhead said eventually, her eyes flashing as she looked up from the papers towards him. "…But this is way more money than what that one bottle cost." She pointed out, the side of her mouth twitching into a smile once more at this. It seemed to be a constant thing with her, Hiro figured as he watched, yet the boy remained tight-lipped, waiting for her to come to her own conclusion with the sum. It was much more than what was initially required— that was the point. All in all, there had to be at least more than twenty that was in Redhead's hands now after he had stored some away in the cafe. Against himself, he knew that had he kept the whole pot he had won last night, then he would most definitely be able to get more from her. And more meant that there was a better chance of it working to full capacity. But he quickly shoved the thought away. No. What he'd done, he'd done for Aunt Cass— and that was fine for him. Twenty-something dollars was good enough for now. Just in order to see if would help him.

Redhead nodded, bit down on her lower lip as she surveyed the boy as if he were some piece of work. She rocked back on her heels and sifted through the money in her hands without looking down at it. "I get it." She said with an almost solemn kind of nod. "You want some help." Hiro didn't reply, not really enjoying the choice of words as he had to hold back a scowl. "How old are you?" Redhead asked eventually, the question catching the boy slightly off-guard as he stumbled a little bit mentally.

There was a question in the back of his mind on whether or not to lie. Or at least exaggerate it a little bit— maybe stretch his age by maybe a few years. He could say he was sixteen. Or even seventeen. But he certainly didn't look the part with his short stature, and since he was asking for this kind of help in the first place he might as well be as honest as was required. He didn't like the look in Redhead's eyes— he knew that the possibility of being shot down was more than likely with the way he was going for this. And so far, she seemed to be his only option in this kind of thing. The only easy one, at least. And so far even this wasn't looking to be a walk in the park.

"I'm fourteen." He said, withdrawn slightly as he answered. Redhead nodded again, continuing to look him up and down. She had sorted through the money that had been handed to her many times so far, and if that wasn't enough to get her to do this one thing for him, he didn't know what else could. What would happen if she refused him? What would he do if she shoved the money back to him and told him to try someone else? He would be stuck like this, having nightmares or staying awake for hours on end, staring outside of windows and feeling like this whenever he thought of Tadashi. His throat swelled shut on itself as he thought of this, and he sucked in a quick breath, feeling a dash of desperation as he stumbled forward with his words.

"It wouldn't be— it's just that—" Redhead raised her eyebrows skeptically as the boy choked on his words a little bit. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect himself and draw himself back in. The idea of rejection and the idea of being stuck in this rut was enough to make him scream. So he forced himself to pause briefly before going on. "I have money for you." He said, choosing his words carefully now as he spoke slower. "All I'm asking of you is to go to the gas station or something…" He trailed off for a second. He grimaced, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead a little painfully. "I just need some help in forgetting…something…and I can't buy it on my own. But I'm guessing you can." The girl certainly looked over twenty-one.

"'Forgetting?'" Redhead parroted, quirking a brow at the choice of words. Hiro dropped his arm to his side with a small slap, looking up and meeting her gaze but not replying audibly. She pursed her lips, looking down and filing through the bills one last time. She seemed much more thoughtful now, but there was once again a trace of that lopsided sort of smile on her lips. And after yet another beat of silence, she looked up from the money and down to the younger child. "Alright then, Hiro." She said then, turning and pocketing the money that would cover the needed drinks and then some. Hiro stiffened in surprise, his eyes widening slightly at the idea that this had worked. "If that's what ya want." She paused for a second, looking over at him expectantly.

Hiro's mind was dragged backwards. He thought of the way that Tadashi always woke her up by poking his nose whenever Hiro slept in on accident. He thought of the way that Tadashi would always smile at him even when the boy was obviously on his last nerve, and he remembered that way his older brother always looked down at him and said: "I'm not giving up on you." He thought of the last expression he had seen on his brother's face— a pained kind of look that had drilled through Hiro even in that first moment as meaning something horrible and awful. He thought of his empty bedroom that he had to return to day in and day out, the way that Tadashi's things were untouched and abandoned. Hiro thought of the hat that his brother always wore that was now useless as it was seated atop of the vacant bed. He thought of his dream that he'd had— the way he'd woken up in sweat and tears, and how Tadashi, who would normally have leapt to his feet and rushed over to his little brother's side, was not there to comfort him.

He shut his eyes tightly as if to block out the thoughts that nearly ended up leaving him winded and gasping for air. And instead he nodded his head before he could go even more off-tangent. "Yes." He said, spitting out the single word in something akin to pain as he sealed his plea. "Yes, I want it." Then, desperate once again, he added on: "Please."

But Redhead didn't seem fazed by the boy's emotions. She only snickered and straightened up quickly, clapping her hands together as if she had just made some sort of accomplishment. "Right then." She grinned. "Let's help you forget, then."

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Hiro waited. Again. The boy sat on the side of a curb, the street in front of him vacant and empty at this time of night. He wished that there was a clock somewhere around here— though at this rate, the later he got home, the better probably. The boy kept his knees closely pressed to his chest, his brown eyes flashing continuously over to the store that was spaced a ways away from him where Redhead had vanished nearly ten minutes ago. The brightly-lit liquor store was still open— its closing hours probably coincided with the weekends, so at least that wasn't any kind of issue in the grand scheme of it all. But the idea didn't really help quell the boy's nerves as Hiro continuously shifted his weight back and forth, reaching up every so often to run slightly shaking hands through his dark hair. Redhead had vanished into the store what felt like hours ago. Why wasn't she back yet?

Maybe she had taken a back way out of the store. Skipped out on him and took the money instead. The idea caused the boy's stomach to knot, and he almost got up to his feet, inclined to go over and and enter the store himself. Certainly it wouldn't take this long to just pick something out of random? Money wasn't the issue in buying things, so what was the delay? Hiro wasn't even sure if he was allowed in the store in the first place— his height often got his age mistaken as younger in the first place, so he was more than sure his being inside of an alcohol-only store would raise a few questions.

Before he could decide to do it anyway, Hiro's train of thought was cut short as the door down the street opened again. Sure enough, the girl from before was making her way back towards him, and at her sides were two grocery bags. She turned and started heading Hiro's way, and the teenager immediately jumped up to his feet, stomach flipping as he clasped his hands anxiously in front of him. The bags that the girl held bore the logo of the store, he realized. He couldn't very well bring that inside the cafe without having Aunt Cass see it. But maybe if he turned them inside out…

"Here." Redhead chirped, skirting around a trash can and rounding over in order to meet the boy where he stood. "I got you some stuff— not sure if you'll like the taste, but if 'forgetting' is what you're going for…" She trailed off with that smirking kind of look, holding out the bags for Hiro to take. The teenager paused uncertainly for a second, eyeing the plastic briefly before reaching over and taking it in his own grip. The weight that came inside of the bags felt far more than was truly there, the teenager flinching a little as he adjusted to the burdens.

Inside each bag was a full pack of alcohol— glass bottles much like the one from last night had been. Twelve in all, which seemed excessive. But given the amount of money he had handed Redhead in the first place, it wasn't unfounded for the girl to assume to buy more than one set. The label that was on the glass didn't seem to match the one that he'd had last night. But according to Redhead that didn't serve as any kind of issue. And it wasn't like Hiro had a set thing in mind to follow through with. And taste didn't matter to him; it was the effect that he was trying to reach for. As long as he was given that, he would be more than okay.

As Hiro peered down into the bag, Redhead cleared her throat. "There's about nine dollars left in change for you." She said. "I was gonna get you another pack, but I didn't really know how much you wanted." Redhead said this with a small shrug, watching the teenager as he eventually looked up from the inside of the bags. She reached back into her pocket, drawing out the change and its respective coins and starting to hand them back over to the small teenager. But the boy shook his head at the attempt, not making a move to reach over for the money.

"No, that's fine." He said quickly, holding the bags closer to himself as he took a small step back. "Y-You can keep the change, it's okay. Consider it a thank-you. 'Cause you didn't really have to do this in the first place. So…" He ended with a small, light shrug. Nine dollars wasn't much in the first place, anyway. What would he be able to do with only nine dollars? He bit down on his lower lip, breathing out a little slowly as he cleared his throat with a shade of difficulty. "…so…thank you." He concluded a little lamely, acutely remembering the last time that he had truly thanked someone. The thought caused a sharp pang to rock the boy, and he had to force himself not to rip open one of the bottles he had been given right at that moment. Instead he coughed, looking down at his feet and trying to focus on not blinking. Any excess movement like that would cause the water that was slowly stinging at his eyes to overflow down the sides of his face, and he wasn't about to let that happen. Not right now.

"No problem, sport." Redhead smirked, turning back and pocketing the change that was now deemed hers. She glanced down at the watch that was on her wrist— Hiro thought of leaning out to the side in the attempt to see how late it had gotten himself. But the boy was too focused on what he now held in his hands, and so he missed his chance as the girl lowered her arm with a slight sigh. "Well— I should be heading off if that's all you needed." She blustered.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's all I needed." The boy mumbled, not looking up from the contents inside of the bag.

There was a brief pause.

Then: "You know, if you're looking to forget things, I'm not sure how long that batch'll last you." Redhead stated, as if the fact were a simple one. Hiro looked up, confused at the sudden change on her part. But the girl had already turned, reaching into her other pocket and drawing out a pen. "Usually I just use this to write down the bets my friends and I make on those bot fights." She said, reaching over and grabbing Hiro's arm, rolling up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and ignoring the boy's small noise of surprise. "But this is a little exception." She said, uncapping the pen and starting to scribble down on Hiro's arm.

The teenager grimaced at the dig of the pen, gnashing his teeth together uncomfortably at the pressure. Once Redhead was done and over with her scribbling, she drew back, a satisfied look on her face as she looked at what she had done. And Hiro was quick to make the connection himself as he found that a set of numbers had been scrawled down across his limb. Seven digits— a phone number. He opened his mouth to say something, looking surprised by the sudden gesture that had been given to him. But Redhead spoke first, smiling again as she tapped the pen's heel against the written digits. "Call me when you need something else." She said, Hiro not mistaking the usage of the word 'when' rather than the use of 'if'. "I'll be quick to help." She said, as if they were talking about simple tasks such as helping replace a light bulb in the basement.

Hiro didn't say anything, only staring down at his arm almost blankly. He didn't look up when Redhead said her goodbye, he didn't offer his own as the girl turned to leave, and he didn't even glance up to watch as the older girl walked back down the street the way that the two had come. He just stood standing stock-still, brown eyes trained fixedly on the phone number that was scribbled across his arm, the weight that was now held in one hand representing far more than what had first been anticipated.

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It was dark when Hiro got back home. The lights of the cafe were shut down, and the front door was locked again. Routinely almost, the teenager doubled back behind the building, using the back entrance that was once again left unlocked for him and then proceeding to lock it up right after him. Ensuring that it was closed properly, Hiro made quick work in turning the bags inside out, just in case Aunt Cass was waiting for him upstairs. Once again, the day's events had left the boy sapped and drained of any energy, Hiro's feet tripping over themselves every so often in their weariness as he rounded the passageway to go up the first sets of stairs.

He thought that he would get away with it two nights in a row. The lights were all off upstairs, so he continued on under the impression that Aunt Cass had gone to sleep like she had the evening before. But the situation should have come across far luckier than the boy deserved. On his way up he had made the mistake of forgetting to skip over the creaky stair, the small sound causing the boy to freeze in his tracks and curse himself mentally. He had to pay more attention, otherwise—

"Hiro?"

The boy cringed, gritting his teeth together so hard that for a moment he was blinded by the pain that it caused. But then he sighed through his nose, shaking his head and forcing his back to straighten, a fake smile plastering over his face as he forced himself to brighten. Going up the rest of the stairs and emerging into the living room, he saw that Cass was standing near the couch, one hand out as she flickered on a lamp fixed in place beside the piece of furniture. Her eyes were narrowed, slightly bleary, which showed how tired the woman was. But she was sharp as her eyes immediately found Hiro's, and the boy did his best to upkeep the fake grin as he stood on the landing. "Hiro— what are you doing?" Cass demanded, turning and glancing at the clock mounted on the wall. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

She sounded near furious. Hiro forced himself to calm down, to hold the bags closer to himself, slightly behind his legs in the attempt to curb attention from it. The plastic was darker on the inside of the bags— Cass wouldn't be able to make sense of what it was unless she peered too closely at them. If she even recognized the logo in the first place. But the boy wasn't about to take that risk in any way, shape, or form. So he attempted to look guilty— which wasn't that hard to do in the first place. "Aunt Cass— I thought you would be asleep by now." He said, the guardian not looking moved at the confession as she continued to stare him down. She was obviously waiting for an explanation. And he was expected to give her one. Great. "I'm sorry. I was just out late with them again, I didn't mean to let it happen for a second time; I really didn't."

"Do you have any idea how worrying it is to be waiting for you like this?" Cass demanded, Hiro looking off to the side with a saddened expression as she launched into her lecture. The woman raised a hand up to her temple, obviously having been worried sick prior to the boy's entrance into the home. "I don't know whether or not you're in trouble or whether or not something happened to you or whether or not I should go out and try to look for you! You really scared me, do you realize that? I was this close to calling you into the police and have them be out looking for you!" Hiro froze at this. "I didn't have any of the other kids' phone numbers so I couldn't call them and I couldn't call you because it was always Tadashi that had the—" She cut herself off immediately at this, freezing, as if what she had said was the equivalent to something mortifying, like taking Mochi and tossing him out the second-story window.

Hiro closed his eyes tightly at this, his stomach sinking. "…I'm sorry, Aunt Cass." He mumbled, his words barely above a whisper.

Cass glanced down at her feet, biting her lower lip briefly. Then she took in a quick breath, shaking her head and looking back up. "You're not allowed out tomorrow night." She said, already sounding apologetic in the punishment. It was a hard thing to do considering that these two nights had been the first of Hiro's in getting out and doing something. But he had promised that this time he would be back earlier— and technically it wasn't even Friday anymore. She had given him free reign of curfew the night before, but this was pushing it now. "Okay?" Then, almost like she was trying to reconcile with the boy, who only seemed to grow every more frustrated at this, she said: "We can stay in and have hot wings. Maybe rent a movie?"

"Fine." Hiro said blankly, still looking over to the side.

Silence. Then: "…What's in the bags?"

Hiro's throat closed in on itself. The boy stopped short slightly, scrambling as he realized that he should have had an answer planned for this very question. The notion that he hadn't anticipated the inquiry was almost mind-boggling in how idiotic it was. The teenager paused a moment, looking back down at the plastic that he held in his right hand, tucked just slightly behind his legs. It looked generic enough. Unsuspecting. But if Cass knew that was inside, she would certainly explode. Probably all over the walls. It wasn't something she could understand, after all. And she wouldn't dare let him even attempt at trying to explain. So he took in a quick breath, and, hoping that it would match his story from before, offered out the best lie he could think of in the moment. "Leftovers. From what Wasabi cooked for me."

"Oh." Cass said, seeming to latch onto the change in topic. "…Was it good?" She tried. "What's in there?"

"Just…some food— look, I'm tired, Aunt Cass." Hiro said, quickly shaking off the leading conversation and trying not to notice how deflated the guardian became as her nephew outright rejected her attempt. "I just want to go to bed now. Okay?" He reached up with his free hand to scrub at his face with a weary expression. "I'm sorry for worrying you." The boy said in a small sigh, already turning to go up the next set of stairs. "It won't happen again."

"Hiro, wait." Aunt Cass said, looking pained as she started after him, reaching out a little hesitantly. The boy stopped on the first stair, frowning as he had one foot raised to keep on going. "I'm sorry." She said, putting one hand down lightly on his shoulder. Hiro didn't react, and she paused a little worriedly before hedging onward. "…I know how hard this has been on you, honey. It's been hard enough for me, but it must be so much worse for you." Hiro didn't look back at her, staring straight up the steps instead as his eyes started to sting, the boy's grip on the railing tightening so much that his knuckles were bleached white from the effort. But if Aunt Cass noticed, she didn't let the details stop her as she kept going. "But you're such a strong little guy, Hiro. And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it. You know that too, right?" Hiro swallowed thickly and did not reply. He didn't even turn around. "It just hurts me so much to see you upset." Cass murmured softly, barely speaking by now. "I love you so much. And all I want is to see you happy again…" She trailed off in her words, watching her nephew tensely as she waited for a reaction.

But Hiro only ducked his head. He didn't open his mouth to speak— for he was certain that if he even tried to get out a syllable, his voice would crack in on itself pathetically. He shifted to the side, shrugging his shoulder out from underneath Cass' hand and starting up the steps quickly to leave the woman behind. Cass' face fell immediately as the boy rushed away from her, and she brought her arm back quickly to herself, as if she had been burned. Hiro reached up with his free hand to rub at his eyes, wiping away streaks of water as he hurried away from his guardian. Cass did a double-take for a moment, starting up as if to follow him. But as Hiro rounded the corner away from her and into his room, she held back, knowing that it wouldn't help anything at all. It would just make things worse if she went upstairs now.

An immense amount of guilt clouded over the woman's gaze, and she pressed the heels of her hands into her forehead as she gave out a small sigh that came out more as a whimper. She had just messed up— she could have just ruined everything that Hiro had worked through in these possible two days he'd been with his friends. She would try to make it right, she had to make things right. The thought of her nephew — who she had more than adopted and loved as if he were her own son — being this wrecked, this upset, was enough to send her reeling. Heaving out another sigh to calm herself, and forcing herself to refrain from following Hiro at the moment, Cass turned away and started back towards her room. With a heavy heart, and even heavier sense of burden on her shoulders, the woman turned on her way back, twisting to the side and switching off the table-side lamp beside the couch, leaving the house to shroud itself in darkness.

'I know you can get through this.'

Hiro wished for nothing more than a door in the entryway of his room as he rushed upstairs, aching for the need to slam something shut and have a barrier in between him and the rest of the world. Coming up from the stairs, Hiro literally threw the bags he held in his hands onto the bed, the young teenager's hands shaking as they raised up to press against his forehead. He turned, his eyes locking onto the other end of the room, the boy able to picture clearly the way that Tadashi would have immediately sat straight up upon such an arrival of the boy's. Hiro's shoulders jerked up and down unevenly, the boy's breathing escalating into a hyperventilation as his head spun, evoking dizziness. Tadashi would have sprung forward, literally throwing himself at Hiro as he grabbed at the boy's shoulders, frantically asking what was wrong, what he could do to help. But that was the problem. It was the root of the problem.

'You're such a strong little guy, Hiro.'

The boy ducked his head, frustration bottling itself in the back of his throat as he gave out a small sob. Tears made hot trails down the sides of his cheeks, and he slowly found that his legs couldn't support him as his knees began to buckle. Feeling pathetic and lost and hopeless, the teenager could hardly bear to try and stifle any noises that might alert Aunt Cass that anything was wrong. He was only swamped with grief, with depression. 'And I know that no matter what happens, you'll be able to get through it.' His shoulders hunched forward, and he sobbed brokenly into the palms of his hands.

"Why did you have to go and do that?" He whimpered, looking up and peering through the water in his eyes to stare brokenly at the now-blurred sight of Tadashi's empty bed. "Why did you have to go into that fire? Why couldn't you just…" His breath hitched slightly and a deep frown etched itself into his features as he slowly he shook his head from side to side, hanging his head once more as he flinched away the sight in front of him. "…I miss you…Tadashi." He whimpered underneath his breath. "I miss you so much…" He whispered. "…And I just can't…"

Hiro couldn't finish the sentence. His throat wouldn't allow it as it swelled shut on him. A bubble of furious anguish started to choke him and the boy locked back his jaw, turning around and looking back at his bed. Another expression shrouded over the boy as his eyes narrowed, his hands balling into tight fists as he scowled deeply. The fourteen-year-old pushed himself up to his feet, staggering slightly in his rush as he flew to the bags, yanking out of the packs of bottles and dropping it onto his covers. His hands shaking and trembling, Hiro's face clouded over into an expression of something akin to anger, the teenager tearing out one of the bottles of alcohol and ripping off its cap without even bothering to wrap it up in a cloth first. The skin of his hand was sliced painfully at the boy's rampant movements, but he didn't pay any kind of heed. He just proceeded to throw aside the cap, feeling sick as he quickly ducked down to throw back a large gulp of the dark-colored liquid that was inside of the glass.

Immediately, the taste burned through his mouth, bitter and awful as he lowered the drink, closing his eyes tightly as he gagged on the flavor. But he didn't let the trivial detail stop him, the boy only shaking his head firmly before downing another gulp. He forced down mouthful after mouthful of the acrid liquid, impelling his throat to work down the alcohol despite its trained motive to force back up the foul stuff. Slowly, Hiro sank back down into a sitting position, drawing his knees close to himself as he pressed his back up against the bed. Bitter as the taste was, the pure strength of the alcohol was apparent the longer he drank. With each added gulp, and with each added swig of the liquor, the warm feeling that he had experienced the night before started to return, replacing the harrowing feeling that carved at his chest before. His hands stopped trembling and shaking, and each small sob that worked its way out of the boy's throat was quieter than the one before it until the sound ceased to exist at all.

And when one was finished off, he drank down another one, growing numb not only to the awful taste that had prolonged him before, but also growing numb to everything else. A sense of calm and peace replaced the aching sense of loss and agony that he had been fostering— the boy feeling as if a warm blanket had been applied to him on a cold winter night. His mind grew fuzzy and dark, clouded and incoherent as he came to the end of his second bottle. The teenager's eyes were half-lidded now, slightly vacant. There wasn't a sense of pain in the depths of his gaze as he stared straight forward, and there wasn't any more hiccupping sounds of grief or sadness. His shoulders had stopped in their uneven shakes, and even the tears, which had seemed never-ending before, only came across as small leaks every now and then. Instead, two bottles having been emptied now, two bottles having muffled everything around him, the teenager sank, crumbling to the ground and landing on his side with a small thud.

Sprawled against the wooden floor, Hiro was just a small heap, unmoving and limp. In his slack hand rested one of the bottles loosely; the other had rolled away from him once he fell down to the ground. He should have gotten up to hide the evidence. If Aunt Cass came upstairs and saw the sight, she would certainly freak out even more. But he couldn't scrounge up the effort to pick himself up from the ground; he couldn't manage the will to get up and tuck away the bottles in the similar fashion he had done before. His head was left swimming from that large intake of alcohol, and his stomach was more that sensitive at the moment— lying down was the only possible option.

Instead, he curled forward, his movements robotic and slow as he tucked down close to himself, his glazed eyes falling shut as he succumbed to sleep— something he normally would be unable to do. The boy sank into unconsciousness, not hindered by coherent thought anymore, and not sidetracked by midnight worries or agonies. He didn't glance over to Tadashi's things, and he didn't even stop to think about his dream, which the boy had been unable to stop dwelling over since this morning. There was nothing except the fuzzy sense of unconsciousness, which was relieving; it was peaceful. The numbness brought with it a sense of muffled serenity. Numbness was preferred. It was satisfying. It was enough to let the boy relax.

And that was all he needed…

He just needed to relax…

Relax…


	3. Chapter 3

The hustle and bustle of the cafe was a light drone filling the building up to the brim. Weekends were the busiest times for the bakery to undertake— especially during the afternoon or during the evening. That was when the crowds — mostly young adults or teenagers — came in by the handful; yet the business wasn't helped by the fact that Aunt Cass sometimes had the tendency to go overboard with her efforts in pleasing the mass that came in and out. Like right now: she was attempting to juggle about five coffees, two hot chocolates, and about six different pastries. Granted that after being in charge of the place by herself for years upon years, she was very gifted at those kinds of feats. But many of the patrons inside of the eatery were openly nervous, eyeing the woman with tense sort of grins as they waited for their own order to be received in a similar haphazardly-strewn way.

Hiro had dragged up a stool to the cash register, sitting with a silent manner in front of the machine. Deftly, he took money for the purchases that were made, typing out and completing the necessary transactions. Some of the customers — those that were often seen and given the title of: 'Regulars' — attempted to make conversation with the young boy as he worked, commenting that they hadn't seen him up and about for quite some time, or that they were so excited to be seeing him helping Aunt Cass again. They were many who tried to push for some kind of chat; Mrs. Matsuda went so far as to offer him up the idea of giving him a ticket to the newest play that was taking place down at the theatre. The old woman claimed that she had an extra voucher to the show, and would "quite enjoy the company of an old friend" rather than going alone.

But Hiro only returned each offer at conversation with a thin-lipped smile and a small mumble or two. It wasn't a very satisfactory reply, or even a remotely pleasing one, but the teenager wasn't very much in the mood for anything more. It was enough that he had gotten himself down here and offered his hand at helping run the bakery in the first place. And he had truly only done it in the first place to try and please Aunt Cass. As the thought crossed his mind, his eyes flickered up to find the woman as he shut the door of the register. Sure enough, the brunette was still rushing to and fro, all smiles and laughs as she spoke with each customer that she passed.

She started to look up slightly, and in doing so, her gaze caught Hiro's own. The woman stilled for a moment, seeming almost surprised as their eyes met. But as she straightened, her smile seemed to waver for a moment at the expression that was on Hiro's face. The teenager was obviously detached— not putting effort or enjoyment into the job that he had adopted at the head of the store. Usually, throughout his record in the past, Hiro had been taken with the concept of helping in the cafe, making great fun out of the simple chores that had been offered to him. He had even invented the straw dispenser that was over by the beverages when he was only fix or six. But it was clear by the look that was on his face that it was no such case anymore.

After managing to hold her gaze for more than a few minutes, Hiro ducked away. Instead, he forced himself to focus only on what he was doing. He put far more concentration into the simple movements of his arm, more absorbed in the act of counting the bills and returning change than was probably needed. He had a splitting headache that had centered itself firmly behind his eyelids, and every time that the cash register opened with a loud clang, it caused a throb of pain to rip through his temple. He tried his best to ignore it, just like he was everything else, but it was a hard thing to accomplish with the mere severity that came across with the ailment.

But it wasn't so much the headache that was bothering him— he'd been grounded for a week. True that the night seven nights ago had entailed Aunt Cass forbidding him only one day of going out. And that simple punishment enough had seemed to make her upset. But every day following that, whenever Hiro had even hinted at the idea of stepping out of the house, Aunt Cass had made a pointed attempt to keep him centered inside the building; and she succeeded with every one. Not because Hiro didn't see her motive when she asked help with cleaning or asked him what he wanted for dinner, or volunteered ice cream, or offered to play a board game with him until the child responded in the correct way— because it was always painfully obvious that the woman was only going to such lengths in order to keep him from leaving. But it was because mostly Hiro felt bad and didn't know what to do; he wanted to refrain as much as he could from outright rejecting her. The boy always — albeit wearily — accepted her efforts without too much bitterness, stopping in every effort to leave and walking reluctantly back to his guardian instead. Like he had today in the example of working the cash register.

But he was gradually and quickly running out of patience. The longer he stayed inside, the tenser he began to get— the jitterier. The walls seemed to press in on him at all sides, and he felt almost claustrophobic in the grand scheme of everything. The conversations among the cafe tables seemed amplified and much louder than it had been ever before. Aunt Cass always seemed too upset, too stressed, even when Hiro did all that he could in his power to do what she wanted. He played her games, he helped her cook, he watched her movies, and he tried his best to appear interested and invested whenever she took to relaying the gossip that she'd heard that day in the cafe. But nothing seemed to work, and the longer things went on, there seemed to be more pressure adding onto his chest, the weight getting heavier and heavier each day and making it harder to breathe. Even now, sitting in front of the cash register and doing simple addition or subtraction as he returned change seemed difficult if not almost impossible to sit through without fidgeting or running his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. He couldn't stay like this— he couldn't.

He'd gone through everything that had been given to him by Redhead in the span of this week. The numbers may have seemed alarming to him before, however now he was just more high-strung in the face of it. The number that had been written on his arm had long since vanished— it hadn't lasted very long at all before it was washed away. However the boy had taken care to write down the digits as soon as he had woken up the morning after the thing had been given. The series of numbers had been scrawled down on a scrap of paper before being tucked away neatly in the back of his desk drawer. He'd been tempted to call numerous times, but he always refrained.

He told himself it was for the sole reason that Aunt Cass seemed to be hanging over him more excessively than she had before. But in the back of his mind he knew that he was afraid. He knew that he was frightened of the idea of calling the number— not only because he wasn't even sure whether or not it was actually real, but also because he knew what he would be getting into if he did pick up a phone. Hiro was more than aware of what Redhead had been addressing when she offered him her phone number and her assistance as well; it was more than obvious. The idea of initiating this was frightening, yet the idea of what it would bring to him was guiltily satisfying in every sense of the word.

He needed to call her, he decided. Soon. More than soon, if anything of the sort came across as possible. He'd run out of the stock that had been given to him seven days ago, and it was showing in the boy's worn demeanor, the dulled look in his eyes as he stared despondently through the actions that he was performing. The feeling had been carving into his chest once more, and his throat felt raw and swollen all the time, as if he had just finished screaming for three hours straight. Everything he saw reminded him of Tadashi — the hallway where his brother had given him a piggy-back ride, the desk where Tadashi had stooped over to help him through an evening of homework, the dining table where Tadashi, Hiro, and Aunt Cass had spent many nights laughing and talking, the garage where Tadashi had helped and watched him create the Microbots. He couldn't take it. He'd been withholding himself as much as he could, but he had run out of alcohol Wednesday night. And since then things had only gotten worse with each passing day.

Hiro kept silent and morose, not even bothering to reply to customers who approached him anymore as he simply tried to focus on adding up bills and finding prices. There was a crestfallen, sorrowful look and feel to the teenager as he handled the money, but if Aunt Cass noticed the mood of the boy, she didn't approach him. Instead the two of them worked, separately of course and not speaking even when the older guardian passed close by him a few times, until the rushes of the day started to dwindle. Usually there was a dip in the activity around 4:00 or 5:00 — then the afternoon rush changed to the evening rush around 6:00 or 6:30.

Pretty soon the cafe managed to become empty for the first time in the entire day, Hiro looking up with almost a slight start as he realized that all the tables were left empty. He'd managed to become almost oblivious while taking orders and accepting money in return, and the teenager blinked rapidly as his back straightened. Aunt Cass was over by the far window, wiping down a rather dirty-looking table with a rag. Hiro could smell the disinfectant on the cloth from where he sat, and in the attempt to try and stifle the odor — which was rather prominent now since she had apparently cleaned up the rest of the tables with the same substance — Hiro pulled down one of his sweatshirt sleeves, leaning over and ducking his head so that he could clamp the cloth over his nose.

The child balanced his head there, staring down dimly at the countertop, more or less staring through it. He listened to the small noises that made themselves apparent— the ticking of the clock on the wall, the hum of traffic outside, the whirring of the coffee machine that was seated towards the back of the bakery. For a few moments that seemed far longer than it probably was, there was nothing except the subtle sounds of everyday life and the smell of the bakery around him; the odor of coffee and sugar and baked goods came across as suddenly too sweet— it made the boy's hollow stomach cave even more in on itself.

But then there was a small cough, and Aunt Cass was suddenly speaking. Hiro was roused at the sudden interruption, looking up from the counter and dropping his arm with a small plunk onto its hard surface. The woman had turned over to him by now, but she remained where she was by the table. She wrung the cleaning rag a little nervously in her hands, and that didn't really help stifle the awful smell that was slowly adding itself to the mixture of scents, mingling among the cakes and baked goods in a rather unpleasant way. "Hiro…" She started a little slowly, obviously hesitant as the teenager took to merely staring at her in his consistently-silent manner, features void of any kind of emotion. She paused briefly as she held the young man's empty gaze, but then she shook her head, starting to walk forward towards him. "…any plans to go out tonight?" She asked tentatively.

Hiro deadpanned her way, though a small hint of bitter anger seeped through his voice when he said: "I thought I was grounded."

Cass seemed hurt at the response— it obviously wasn't what she was hoping the reply to be. She coughed in the back of her throat, looking put-out as she came to a stop at the other end of the counter. "I never said that you were…" She started an attempt to defend herself, but under the remote stare of her nephew, she was apparently rendered unable. Instead she paused for a second more, glancing down at the ground before looking back up to shake her head. "No, no, you can go out tonight. It's okay. I-I'll let you, if that's what you want." 'If that's what will make you happy.' She didn't voice this choice of words, but it was obvious from her tone that that was what she had truly wanted to say instead.

Hiro remained staring at her, blank and unresponsive. A long beat of silence passed, as if Aunt Cass was waiting for a response. He tried thinking of one to give her, and regrettably the first thing that came to mind was the issue of his curfew. The later he could come home the better— it was luck that he had managed to get the bags past his guardian before, and luck had a tendency to run out. He was also lucky that Aunt Cass hadn't found any of the bottles in his room, but then again he had been smarter with that aspect of things. He'd taken to stashing them away in every available hiding spot in his room: under clothes in his drawers, at the bottom of the chest at the foot of his bed, in one of his desk drawers, places discreet like that. Cass wouldn't find them unless she turned his bedroom upside down.

"But." Aunt Cass said, cutting through the boy's thoughts yet again as he perked. The woman turned, walking along the counter and towards the back half of the room, Hiro swiveling on the stool's seat in order to watch her skeptically. She went towards the shelf that was near the stairs, fishing out her purse, which she left tucked away in the back of the drawer. Mostly it was to ensure that no customers who tended to wander away from the actual restaurant and into their home wouldn't find it lying around. Stealing wasn't a major issue with the majority of people that came by— the action of hiding the thing was mainly a cautionary tale. But then again, one could never be too careful in the city.

She fished something out from her bag, a small, rectangular box. She held it in her hands gingerly, and it was clear in the way that she walked back to him that whatever she held, it was something important. Her steps were light and careful as she skirted back to her nephew, and by now Hiro had fully straightened, paying more attention to what was happening now for once. And when Aunt Cass came back and stopped, when she extended her arm over to the boy, he was almost confused as he accepted the package and stared down at it.

"When I call you, I want you to pick up." Aunt Cass said, stern as she watched Hiro inspect the packaged mobile phone that she had just handed him. He turned the box upright, opening it as he broke the seal carefully. And he turned it upside down, sliding out the device and stashing the box away so that he could hold the thing in both hands. It was small, and it felt much more fragile that he'd anticipated. What Aunt Cass had said before was right— it was only Tadashi who had a phone before. Hiro had always been with his brother, so the point was rather moot on whether or not the younger should have one as well. Such an idea would be a waste of money. Tadashi always seemed so careless about his own when he had it, though— it never seemed like a cellphone should be nearly this breakable.

"You can stay out as long as you need to, but you need to answer when I call. If you don't, then we'll have a problem. Do you understand me?" She was being strict now, which was a rare sight for someone as gentle and loving as Cass. There was even a hint of anger laced in her tone, which showed that she had truly been affected by the past few times where he hadn't shown up. There was a part of him that was guilty in the face of such a thing, but the other half of him was too caught up in looking at the new phone, racing with the ideas and opportunities that were surfacing with the simple device. When he didn't reply for a moment or two, too busy staring down at the cell, Aunt Cass pressed again. "Do you hear me, Hiro?" She asked. "I want you to answer when I call you, okay? And you know my own number, right? So you can call me if you have any trouble. …right?"

He finally caught on, looking up and giving a nod. "Yeah. Sure. Yeah, I can. I will."

Aunt Cass nodded. "…Okay." She said softly after another pause. She didn't look all that reassured though, but then she shook herself, as if she were shrugging off the issue as best she could. She smiled down at her nephew instead, a painful, weighted-down kind of grin as he didn't seem to get any brighter. "Do you think that your friends would want to hang out with you tonight? I'm sure they would— they must have missed you this week." They had indeed missed him; he knew that for a fact. However the knowledge didn't come from the 'fun' that he had claimed to have with them before. The knowledge came from the obscene amount of videos and messages from the group that was slowly piling up onto his computer questioning his absence from them.

"I could call them, yeah." He said. Though his voice must have been too hollow, lacking any sort of real excitement, for Aunt Cass didn't look very comforted by his words. Finding it unfair to his aunt, who was obviously just trying to help as much as she could, he forced out a smile- one that stretched over his face in what he hoped was a genuine-looking beam. "Thank you. Aunt Cass. I— I appreciate all that you're doing for me. I really do. I'm sorry for…" He paused for a second, biting down on his lower lip as he glanced back at the phone. He shrugged limply, shaking his head instead of finishing his thought as he found himself grasping at nothing.

Cass offered a small smile again, though this time it was painfully sad now. She leaned over, reaching out and running a hand lovingly through his dark hair. "…I love you." She murmured softly. "So much. Okay? I'm sorry that I got angry with you. I know you must be so upset now. And…if being out late with friends is what makes you happy, then I'm not going to stand in your way. Because that will make you happy, and then that'll make me happy. I just need to be able to call you when you're out like that, okay? Alright? I need to know you're being safe." Hiro tightened his hold on the small phone in his hand as she said this, his throat feeling like he had just swallowed down a white-hot iron. But he nodded all the same.

His aunt hugged him tightly, ducking her head and pressing it down briefly into his shoulder. She repeated her statement of love again, as if she were just reminding the boy of the fact before he could have the chance to forget. Hiro just nodded, hesitantly drawing out his own arms to wrap them around the woman's waist. At the front of the store, the bell rang as the door was pushed open and a new customer came inside. Hesitantly, Aunt Cass drew away from her nephew, her grip on the child lingering as she glanced back over her shoulder. "Oh." She said softly, under her breath. She glanced back, looking saddened again as she smoothed down his hair for the umpteenth time. "I can handle the night shift, honey." She murmured softly, her voice barely a whisper as she looked at her nephew in pained endearment. "You go and be with your friends. You go and get happier. And I'll be here waiting for you, okay? I'll always be here waiting."

He nodded. Said two simple words in response: "I know."

Aunt Cass beamed, then turned around and leaned back into her heels, once again standing on the other end of the counter after she had stopped leaning over the width of it. She held his gaze lovingly for another moment or two, but then turned, coughing in order to clear her throat before calling out to the customer who was making their way inside. Apparently it was a Regular by the way that the pair immediately struck up conversation. But Hiro wasn't focused on even glancing to see if he recognized them as well.

Instead, the boy only looked up in order to see that Aunt Cass' back was to him, and that the woman was in deep conversation already with the newcomer. He paused briefly, a pang of awful guilt squeezing his throat like a chokehold. He swallowed with difficulty— any other time and he would be disgusted with the mere thought. But now he just pocketed the phone that was held in his hands, ensuring that it wouldn't fall out before turning back to the cash register. He leaned over slowly, subtly typing out the code that would allow the machine in front of him to be opened. He put his hand close to the door of it, preventing the thing to be slammed open, which would then create its awful clanging noise. In catching it the way he did, he prevented either of the women at the other end of the room to be alerted as to what he was doing.

Opening the thing carefully, Hiro left it ajar for only the briefest of moments. He reached in quickly, blindly, for some amount of money that would prove satisfactory to him. He ended up slipping out a twenty, which was a little excessive, but he had no other time to try and fix it. Instead he was only allowed a heartbeat to stuff the bill in his pocket, shutting the cash register as quietly as he has opened it as he hopped down from his perch on the stool. The stolen money should have caused in him severe regret. The phone should have burned a hole through his pocket with the way that it would undoubtedly be used. But they didn't do either of those things.

By the time Aunt Cass turned back around to glance at the boy that she had left behind, Hiro was long gone. Out the back door and starting down the street. A small smile tugged on the edges of her lips, and her eyes softened, as if she were already picturing her nephew racing out, dialing numbers quickly on the new phone in the excitement of being able to be with his friends, with the people who he and Tadashi had both loved. It was better this way, she thought with an almost-happy expression coming over her face. Hiro would get better like this, bit by bit, on his own accord. He wasn't forced into anything this way. And things would only get better from here on out.

"Was that Hiro?" The customer, one of her close friends, asked, leaning over and peering after the young boy. They blinked, seeming surprised when Cass nodded yes in turn. "How is he?" They asked, invested entirely now, which was what most people seemed to be when the topic switched to the teenager. "Is he alright?" They clucked their tongue, shaking their head. "The poor dear. He'd been so upset ever since his brother…" They trailed off, as if the thought occurred that Cass was no more protected against the reminder of the fire. So instead they changed routes, clearing their throat and pressing forward as they corrected themselves. "Is he doing alright now?"

Aunt Cass turned as well, staring the way that Hiro had left. She didn't reply for a moment, quiet as she considered the question. There was a long pause between the two, but eventually, Aunt Cass let a smile cross over her face warmly. "Yeah." She answered softly, a warm feeling spreading through her chest affectionately. "Yes, I think he's going to be just fine from now on." She murmured.

(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)(•-•)

The phone call had worked— it had been answered on the fourth ring. Redhead had known exactly who he was upon his call, despite Hiro still lapsing in the knowledge of her own name. And it didn't take long in order to get his message across, which shouldn't have been a surprise with the way that Redhead had offered her information in the first place. Hiro walked down the sidewalk, his steps light and quiet compared to the loud background of the city. He didn't go as far as he normally did; such a trip would just end up with a wasted journey. Instead he made down to the pier— a rather long walk, but it didn't come as a concern to the boy. It was shorter than the alternative with the route he took.

He drew up his hood snugly around his head, sinking back into the shelter that it provided the farther he went along. It was chilly out today— there was a heavy fog that hung over the city and it didn't help to warm the temperature at all. Narrowing his eyes against the fuzzy setting, Hiro tucked his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, feeling the twenty dollar bill crinkle in his hands as he tightened his hold on the paper. People were passing to and fro, people of all shapes and sizes and walks of life. Usually at this time there were business people with briefcases and work agendas bustling by, probably intent on making a date. However during the weekends, the streets were clogged instead with teenagers or groups of friends. It made the walk a little nosier, causing the boy's head to pound with a heavier beat of pain. However Hiro did his best to look past the idea and shrug it off. It seemed like that was all he was doing recently.

In the span of less time than he'd anticipated, Hiro had found his way to the pier. The boy walked to the very edge of the concrete, coming to a standstill and looking out silently over the bay. The water was still today, which probably had something to do with the fog that had rolled overnight. It was like a smooth expanse of glass, and somehow the lack of waves or movement caused a pang of sadness to shake the young teenager. He gave a weary sigh, sitting down on the edge of the stone and looking down towards the water shortly below. Letting his legs dangle, the boy kept silent where he sat and waited, looking out towards the far horizon with an empty kind of stare.

A long time passed — a longer amount of time than it took for Hiro to get down here in the first place — before Redhead showed up. The boy had started to doze off, lack of sleep and exhaustion causing the boy to pull his knees back up to his chest, leaning over as his eyes started to close blearily. He hadn't slept much since Wednesday, and it was started to take its toll again with his bagged eyes and flat voice. However as soon as he started to nod off, there was a bright call from behind, the boy snapping to attention as he whipped around to look over his shoulder. And sure enough, a lithe form was making its way over to where the young boy had settled down.

"Yo Grumpy." Redhead drawled as she marched her way over. Hiro didn't reply, and kept silent even when she took a spot down next to him, setting down the bag that she had been carrying with her as she turned to give him an expectant smile. Taking the grin for something else, Hiro reached into the front of his hoodie and drew out the twenty dollars, handing over the stolen money and taking instead the bag that had been dropped beside him. Redhead perked at the exchange, looking somewhat surprised by the amount. But Hiro didn't pay any heed, instead taking to peering down into the plastic bags and sorting through what was inside. It was apparent the relief that crawled over the boy's face at the sight of the drinks that met him, because Redhead snickered as she pocketed the money that had been given to her. "Didn't know you missed it so much." She remarked, not even sure if the boy was listening to her with the way that he was staring intently down into the bag. "You didn't call me for so long; I figured you didn't need my service anymore." Her words were tinged with hints of sarcasm.

"No." Hiro said, rather shortly and being painfully aware of how hollow his voice sounded. "I got grounded, I couldn't leave."

"Ah." Redhead snickered, finding amusement in the simple reply. Hiro didn't react to her teasing, but that didn't cause her to stop in any way. "Yeah, the 'rents can get pretty awful sometimes." The dark-haired-kid didn't reply, not even looking up from what he was doing. Instead he reached into the bag, grabbing one of the bottles that were tucked away in its pack and wriggling it out of its hold. Without even glancing over at Redhead to see whether or not he could, because really by now permission really wasn't his on main concern list, he uncapped the drink and started to delve into the bottle. Redhead quirked a brow at the boy's quick actions, but she still continued to speak. "I know I hate mine." She went on with a dry tone. "They're so annoying, you know?"

The few gulps that Hiro managed to get down were just as bitter as he'd remembered them to be. But the break and abstinence from the liquid left him aching for the sensation of it, and now that it was finally being returned to him, the boy almost felt physical pain in reaction to the relief that was experienced when the warm feeling started to come over him once more. The heaviness that hung over his shoulders, the jittery feeling that he had fostered this entire past week, they would all go away. It just depended on how fast he drank down the liquid. The thought caused the boy to hasten in his actions, and by the time that he replied to Redhead, more than half of the strong liquor had been downed, and there was strangely comforting fuzziness on the edge his mind.

"My parents are dead." He said hollowly, holding the half-empty bottle in the grip of both of his hands now as he stared over the smooth water. Redhead blinked, but didn't reply; Hiro wasn't really looking for one in the first place, though. Instead, staring blankly forward, the teenager rambled softly, his voice a small murmur as he observed the hanging fog that was surrounding them on all sides. "…They died when I was three." He paused for a long moment, looking down and taking another deep, bitter-tasting swig of alcohol as he wanted desperately for any remaining shred of coherent thought — any remaining shred of sadness or regret — to vanish. "…I hardly even remember them." He whispered once he was done, looking down at the ground as he let the confession out on accident.

Redhead started to open her mouth, looking as if she were about to ask something. But then she seemed to cut herself off, glancing down to the bags of alcohol as her eyes flashed. Instead, she sat back in what looked to be a more relaxing position, wrapping her hands over her ankles and looking out over the water. Silence hung itself over the two of them, and in the back of his mind, Hiro wondered why Redhead was even still here in the first place. Why hadn't she just left once he'd given the money over? But he refrained from demanding that answer outright, and instead he just focused on drinking back the numbing liquid. He made quick work in choking back the thing, not as much sidetracked from the taste as he had been the first time he'd tried the drink. Such a thing was worth it to get the necessary reaction.

And he got it deep into the second bottle. A weary, exhausted feeling hung like weights on the boy, and his intelligent thought was starting to be killed, just as he had wanted. There was a muffled and muted sense to everything, and Hiro felt the calm that he'd desperately missed starting to settle over him again. The teenager's eyes were half-lidded, and every time that he brought the bottle back up to his mouth, his arm moved slower, the simple action of 'up and down' bringing with it more difficulty in figuring out than he usually had. Despite the difficulty in movement that came with the calming sensation, Hiro continued to drink down the thing that he had been deprived of so dearly this past week. He hadn't even noticed how much he'd depended on the alcohol, how much he had depended on it in order to keep free his mind of Tadashi, or to quell his nervous tremors, or to even get to sleep at night. He hadn't noticed it until the alcohol had been denied of him, and now that he had finally gotten it back it was like sinking into a swimming pool on a blistering hot day.

Time passed before Redhead spoke, and when she did, it was only when Hiro's eyes had lost their intelligent spark, and when the boy's movements had slowed enough to show that he was starting to fall into the trap that the liquid inflicted. "So." She said, turning away from the bay in front of them as she twisted around to look at the teenager. "What's your story, kid?" She asked, feeling freer to ask the question now as Hiro actually turned to look her way, his muddled and almost confused expression trained on her rather than him just looking away pointedly. "You said you need to 'forget something' and since I'm the one helping you do it, I think I should know the reason, don't you?"

Hiro stared at her blankly for a moment or two, as if he wasn't sure to what she was referencing at first. Redhead only met his gaze, offering up no more explanation or reinforcement to her question as she simply waited for him to answer. And he did, eventually, after dousing back another swallow of the liquor that he held in his hands. He looked disappointed at the detail that the liquid was starting to run out as well in that bottle. But it was clear that he was just planning on opening a third once this one ran itself dry. Drinking so much in such a short amount of time wasn't really a smart idea. Especially given his short stature. But the fact wasn't released from Redhead's lips— she didn't even know if the kid would listen. Hiro reached up to rub the sleeve of his sweatshirt over his mouth, wincing a little bit at the slightly ill feeling that was starting to develop in the pit of his stomach before trying to answer.

"Uhm…" The boy grimaced again, the thought bringing pain along with it as he reached up to rub at his head, and at the pain centered there that was only getting gradually worse. He stared down at the glass bottle he held close to his chest, the remaining liquid in the container sloshing around in the bottom of it. When he went on to speak, his words were quiet and slurred together, hardly making much sense to himself even, though Redhead seemed invested enough into what he had to say, and it was clear that it made at least some sense to her. Which was good enough, considering that by now keeping track himself or what he was saying was almost impossible with the way that his mind was so clearly hazed over.

"My…best friend…." His voice was a mere rasp in his throat, faltering on itself, stopping short prematurely. "My brother…died… It was the night of the college Showcase, and he tried really hard to get me into that school…" He ducked his head, looking agonized, and before he could continue, he drank down another swallow of the alcohol. He knew that by the end of this he would want more, he would need more. To drown out the torture of recounting such a thing, or to drown out the sorrow that was starting to clench at his heart and chest. He'd gotten into this in order to stop thinking about his brother and what had happened, but now he just couldn't seem to stop himself from going on, he couldn't seem to reign himself in before things could get out of hand.

"There was a fire and…" He grimaced, swallowing thickly. "One of his professors was inside. I tried to tell him to stop…I tried to pull him back. I tried to—…I tried…" He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, shaking his head. His voice was pathetically clogged by now, which only made understanding what he was saying harder. "He was my only friend. The last person that was really from…from MY family…and just because I couldn't stop him…just because I wasn't enough to hold him back from running into that building… It exploded, and…and he was just gone." He ran one of his hands through his hair, his jaw locking back and a hint of subtle anger crawling into his voice as he muttered under his breath. "That stupid fire…it was all an accident— why did he have to go running into that fire? All for some stupid person that didn't even…" Hiro's voice broke and splintered into pieces, the boy's face clouding over with an awful kind of sadness as he ended his thought in a small whimper. "…that didn't even love him…?"

Yet again, there was a stunned kind of silence. Redhead didn't make a move to speak, and Hiro was too busy trying to fish out yet another bottle that he could use to douse away these emotions. His hands were shaking in his efforts, and with the way that he was so discombobulated now, working out the next bottle was a lot harder than should have been. "…shit." Redhead mumbled after the long silence had passed. "That's messed-up." It was a little less than satisfactory in the sense of how replies went, but Hiro was much too engrossed with what he was doing to even try and care about it. He only growled in the back of his throat, the noise coming out as more of a whine as he reached up to scrub at his eyes, which he was afraid were starting to burn and overflow with tears.

Redhead leaned over, knocking his hands — which had started to shake — away and fishing out the next bottle for him, handing it over after popping the cap off herself. Hiro accepted the offer with a small, slurred mumble of appreciation, immediately forcing himself to choke down more. He had to get rid of the thoughts. But now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was like vomit that he couldn't seem to hold back. His shoulders hunched and he ducked his head, locking his jaw back as he spoke through tightly gnashed teeth. "I miss him." He growled, his knuckles turning white the force that he held the bottle in his hands with. "And I don't know what to do without him now. All I can think about is everything that we used to do together, and everything that I can't do with him anymore." He shook his head, swallowing before going on. "And I think about every time that I was ever mean to him and I wish I could take things back, but I can't." By now his shoulders were heaving unevenly, jerking up and down as his breathing slowly became out of control. "And I wish I could have made him stop. I wish I could have stopped him from going into the building, but he went anyway and now Aunt Cass is upset and I can't make things any better, and nothing is working, and I feel like I'm going to explode if I can't get a handle on things, but I have no idea where to start, and it's such a big mess that I can't even sit with without…without—"

He cut off, trembling violently by now. His speech, which grew increasingly frantic and faster with each word, came to an abrupt halt as he was gripped by severe tremors. He bit down on his lower lip, ducking his head down close to his chest and taking in staccato, panicked gasps. Shivers crawled up and down his spine, and Hiro made a plaintive noise in the back of his throat as he was overwhelmed with images of Tadashi, of his older brother. Such images caused trails of water to trickle down each side of his face— warm and hot against the severely-dropping temperature of the city. He shook his head groggily from side to side, sniffing pathetically in the attempt to choke back any excess noise. "…sorry." He muttered, his voice sounding small and quiet as he said this.

Redhead eyed him skeptically. But when she spoke again, she didn't seem bothered by the reaction that the boy seemed to be having. Rather, her voice was almost something akin to interested as she twisted around. "Hm." She said, Hiro turning around to look at her oddly. Now into his third — a dangerous amount to down this quickly, especially with his short and slim physique — the boy's eyelids were hooded, his movements and stare languid as his teeth had started to chatter behind his closed mouth. "Seems to me like your attempt at 'forgetting' is a little bit more than warranted. However, if you just keep with this, you won't get all that far. Or you'll only get halfway there. Maybe if you'd told me your sob story earlier, I would have known better."

"S'not a— s'not a sob story." Hiro objected, though he kept interested in what the girl was mentioning anyway as he watched her intently. Or as intently as he could with the way that his mind fazed in and out of the moment. His vision was slightly blurred by now, focusing into true shapes only once in a while as the pieces slowly clicked. However by the time that Redhead displayed what she intended, it only appeared as a small white blur to which she showed Hiro. The teenager's nose wrinkled in confusion, and when he reached out to take the thing, it took him three tries in order to actually grab the thing rather than the air beside it. "It'll up your pay a bit more, but there's always a price to pay for happiness, I guess."

"What is it?" Hiro mumbled, bringing the thing close to himself in order to see what was in front of him. It was a case of something, he realized. A case that had on the back of it a long message of fine print. But Hiro couldn't seem to focus his vision down enough in order to read it, no matter how close the boy brought the casing, and no matter how much he narrowed his eyes in the attempt to see it. He let out blustery sigh, frustration lacing onto the back of it as he growled: "I can't read it."

"You don't have to read it— you've only got to understand what it does." She said almost loftily. She reached over and jabbed a finger down on the case's lid. "It's just some simple medicine. A couple tablets and you'll be out for a few hours. Peaceful dreams and smooth sailing. There's not many in there already— usually I take some of them, so most is gone. But this'll help you relax for a long time; that is, if you use it correctly." Hiro still didn't seem to understand, Redhead sighing softly as she tried to make light of the situation. "Look— it's fine. It's just some medicine; you'll thank me later, right?"

Hiro blinked slowly, hesitating as his heavy mind took careful effort to think through the situation in front of him now. Or as careful thought as he could get to. He already had the alcohol; and that was fine enough, right? Though in the back of his mind he had wonder— how could he know if it was enough if he didn't try something else as well? He opened his mouth to say something, his jaw slack as he tried to search for a good enough response. Against himself, his fuzzy mind reverted to Aunt Cass. She would be upset. She was…she was already upset about everything right now. And he didn't want to make her even worse…did he?

His mind, warped and disoriented, was fighting against itself. He didn't want to make Aunt Cass upset, no…no he didn't want to do that at all. He didn't want that….he didn't want to…he didn't… 'I think you're sick, little brother.' Hiro's grip on the thing increased tenfold, the boy curling tighter into himself as he remembered the words that Tadashi had told him years and years ago, tears filling up his eyes and leaking down over his face again as he gave a small, quiet sob. The simple phrase tore open his chest in that painful way, rendering him of any breath he had as the boy leaned down into his sweatshirt sleeve. '…give you some medicine to help make you feel better. Okay? I think that sounds pretty good.' Hiro ran a trembling hand through his hair, sniffing loudly as his attempt to stifle his own noises went out the window.

'You need some medicine to make you feel better, don't you?'

"…how much will this cost?" When Hiro spoke next he was shocked at the way that his voice sounded— hollow, as if everything that had made it up before had gone. It scratched against his throat in a painful way, and its volume barely rose into that of a small mumble. "…How much will it cost me?" He asked softly, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes in a rough, almost mean way.

Redhead's reply was quick. "Sixty. For the pills and the drinks. Then we can have a regular deal. This time I'll let you off with twenty but next time I'll look for more." Her tone was brisk, as if she were talking about a simple transaction— as if Hiro was a customer at the cafe asking how much a small coffee was. Sixty…sixty wasn't too bad. No, it was fine. He could manage it. Bot fights…the cash register… "We can meet down here whenever you wanna do it. You just give me a call and I can handle the rest of it. What do ya say, Grumpy?" The sheer caustic manner of the girl should have been enough to put Hiro off, but the boy was out of it. He didn't even notice the small detail— all his attention was focused on the things that he held in his hands. And what they meant for him.

He gave a small nod, barely even a full movement to qualify his confirmation of the partnership. But it seemed to be enough for Redhead, because she grinned widely. Turning and reaching into the bag, she drew out one of the last two bottles for herself, reaching over and clanging it against the bottle that Hiro held in his own hand limply. "Cheers, then." She said happily, satisfied as she too took a swig of hers. Hiro stared down numbly at his own drink, making the slow connection that it was already nearly empty as well. Just like the other two had gone down quickly, this one seemed to run out just as fast.

"So when do you want to meet here again?" Redhead asked, almost enthusiastic with the question.

Hiro continued to stare down at the alcohol in his hand, not replying.

"Grumpy, I'm talkin' to you." She said, reaching over to knock the lip of her bottle against the boy's shoulder. "Or do you just want to call me next time? Would that be better for you?"

Hiro didn't make a move to speak.

"…Hiro." She pressed, raising her eyebrows as she sat forward a little to try and get a glimpse at the teenager's face. When he still kept quiet, she pressed even more, refusing to let the topic go until she got a straightforward answer. "Do you want to just call me next time? Or do you want to set a date to meet back here?"

Hiro's only reply was only to turn, dropping the glass bottle beside him with a loud clatter, delving unsteadily into the bag to take out the last bottle of beer.

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Everything became muffled and confusing. Hiro didn't know exactly where he was— he felt like he was sure that he had walked away from the pier, but he could distinctly hear the small rushing of waves against the stone. He thought that Redhead was still with him, but as he slowly moved his head from side to side to look, he couldn't see a single other figure around him. He thought that he had fallen asleep for a while, but it was still dark around him... Or at least he thought that it was dark. He wasn't sure— all he knew was that his stomach was rocking with every subtle, small, and sluggish move that he managed to create through the fuzziness in his mind. His head was pounding and every time that he swallowed, the boy grimaced and gagged in the back of his throat at the taste that was festering on his tongue.

After what felt like a millennia, Hiro made a slow discovery: he was lying down. The boy was flush against the concrete, his cheek scraping against the ground as he subtly moved his head. He winced, at not only the abrasion on his cheek, but also at the sense of nausea that followed the simple movement. He rolled over onto his side, fumbling as he put his hands down on the ground, pushing up and gagging as he struggled up to all fours. As he managed to get halfway up, the boy stopped short, squeezing his eyes shut as he hesitated, sickness jolting up into the pit of his throat with an awful kind of taste.

The boy immediately jerked forward at the initial sensation, the teenager letting out a small whimper briefly before ducking down as the sickness started to force its way up. The boy retched feebly; whatever sparse content that was in his stomach became void as it spilled onto the concrete below him. The taste of the bitter alcohol was soon replaced with this bile, but the alternative was no better as Hiro gagged deeply, even once the task of forcing up the stuff had passed. His head swam even more after the boys' retching, leaving him crouched on his hands and knees for a long time afterwards in the attempt to get himself back under control.

His mind came in spasms, nearly incoherent in itself as he tried to retain control over what was going on. But it was nearly impossible to do so. Hiro swayed slightly, unbalanced and sick as he struggled to remember what was going on. Was it dark…? Where had Redhead gone…? Did he drink all of the alcohol…? Where did he put those other things….? No— no, he had to get back home. He had to get back…he had to get back to…who, again? It took a frighteningly-long amount of time to land on the name, but he did after a moment. Aunt Cass— he had to get back and be with Aunt Cass. That was it. He had to go home. Home.

He pushed himself up to his feet, immediately stumbling and capsizing in the first effort. He slammed back down into the ground, a pathetic yelp coming out from the boy's mouth as he grimaced in pain. Gasping for air that wouldn't seem to fill his lungs, Hiro struggled up to his feet again. He took it slower this time, forcing himself to balance on unsteady, suddenly-inept legs. Swaying on his legs, the teenager turned and started back in a general direction, for he'd no idea which way to turn. After all, he wasn't even sure where he was in the first place. So rather than focusing on the direction he was going, it was all he could focus on to walking correctly, and putting one foot in front of the other.

Every step brought another wave of sickness, another series of poundings to slice apart his head. The boy ducked down against the agony, hugging himself tightly as he plodded along. In the back of his mind, in the fuzziness of whatever he was experiencing, he could hear faint sounds of cars passing by on the street. That meant that he was…that he was near a road, right? But…which one? Was he close to home? Was he far away? The boy blinked rapidly, his fuzzy and nearly doubled vision wavering violently to and fro in front of him— he couldn't narrow things down into one strict picture, rather left feeling helpless as it all seemed to escape from him right when he expected that he would be able to figure it out. But it was fine— there wasn't anything to worry about, his mind slurred as the boy stumbled over his own feet, crashing back down to the ground for the second time now. It didn't matter if he couldn't find his way home, he could just stay out here— it wasn't like there was anything wrong with that.

He picked himself up again, relentless as he forced through his slow, staggering walk. Blindly, for he had stopped trying to make sense of what was surrounding him, Hiro found himself walking against a wall. What sort of wall, he'd absolutely no idea, yet the thing managed to act as a small guide for him; or at least it appeared that way as the teenager leaned against the brick, stumbling and wobbling as his feet tripped themselves up. His mind seemed to deplete the longer that he forced it into action, as if it were getting too tired to keep going, and in consequence of this, it stuttered more and more. Eventually the boy was barely walking, his feet a small shuffle against the ground as he muttered unintelligible words underneath his breath. Every so often, a coherent snippet escaped his mouth, far too low to be able to be heard for very long though as they escaped one by one as he tripped forward. "…Tada—…couldn't…tried…isn't….fau—…"

The sound of the street had grown louder now, even to Hiro's uncoordinated mind. However, before the boy could struggle to find out what this meant, his knees buckled in on themselves suddenly, the teenager collapsing as his legs suddenly gave out on him. As if he were too tired or worn to try and reach out to catch himself, Hiro made no sudden moves, only letting himself fall back into another painful slam on the ground of wherever he had wandered. A dull thud came from the trip, and the breath was driven out from the boy's lungs in a subtle whooshing sound as pain crawled over his languid features. By now, cuts and bruises were starting to etch themselves into view after so many accidents like this, blood warming Hiro's skin and leaking through the knees of his jeans to dye them a dark purple color rather than their original light blue.

Hiro made no move to pick himself up after this fall though— whether that was because he simply couldn't will his limbs to follow directions anymore, or whether it was just because he had lost the motivation to keep going, even the boy couldn't really tell. He didn't really care in the first place. Instead, he remained sprawled where he was against a cold, stone ground, his eyes closed limply as his breathing slowly returned to him bit by bit in desperate rasps. The warm feeling that he had so dearly missed was keeping him rooted, as if the feeling had turned into a blanket, which was now being tugged so harshly over him that it was pinning him there to the ground.

But — yet again — he could find no trouble in it. Because after all— he had the warm feeling. That was all he needed. If he complained about it, it might go away. And what would happen if it went away? All the bad thoughts and all the bad things would transpire again. Things like— he couldn't draw the issues to mind. What had the bad things been again? He was cut off before he could even try to remember what he had been trying to forget, his mind shutting down once more as the boy teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. Thought slipped away like sand through his fingers, and Hiro was left permanently with a dream-like awareness, something fuzzy and dark and confusing. Consciousness slipped away, and the teenager grew numb once more. And oh, how relieving the numbness came to be…

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He was running late. Usually Wasabi was more than punctual, especially to things that mattered. Losing track of time — well, losing track of anything, really — wasn't really something that the young man made the habit out of doing. However tonight he had stayed a little bit too long at the college working on his robotics project, and after running downtown to restock on food that he was starting to realize he was running out of back at his apartment, it was nearing ten at night. He was home by now normally, even on weekends. The idea of not getting enough sleep — the minimum of about eight hours — was enough to make him groan aloud. He'd be cranky the next morning going back to the school study for upcoming Finals. And when he was cranky, Go-Go turned crabby, and then nobody won. He was really going to have a day tomorrow, he figured dryly.

The young man drove his car neatly down the side of the road, constantly checking mirrors and blind spots as he did so, despite the fact that he was quite literally one of the only cars on this specific road at this time. The later it got, the less cars traveled to and fro, and right now he was the only one in the vicinity. But it was obvious that he would not let such a thing deter him as he continued to check left and right, glancing back at his groceries compulsively as if to make sure they had not suddenly thrown themselves out the window.

However, as the man started to swivel back into his rightful spot in the driver's seat, his eye was caught by something else other than traffic lights or grocery bags. Against himself, he took his foot gingerly off of the accelerator, his car slowing down cautiously until it ceased to move along at all. He blinked rapidly, a tad of confusion showing in his eyes as he glanced to the left, and then to the right. Off to the side, out of one of the branching alleyways that led out into the street, there seemed to be…something? A rather small-looking shape that was crumpled on the ground. Was it a person? Were they hurt?

He glanced around a few times more, unsure. The engine of his car was still running, sounding almost impatient as the college student hesitated and deliberated. Eventually, he decided that there couldn't be… too much harm in at least checking on what was wrong. If the person was hurt, then he couldn't just keep driving— it was against any kind of moral principal that he had ever been taught. Taking the cautious approach and rolling down the window, Wasabi leaned over, reaching over to unbuckle his seatbelt to help him lean out far enough in order to be heard. "…Hey." He called out, his forehead creasing over, a mix of concern and confusion overcoming his features as he eyed the figure.

He looked down, slipping his phone out of his pocket and quickly switching on the flashlight option to the small device. "Hey, you okay there?" He called, twisting around and reaching out just slightly past the threshold of the car window, obviously not all that happy with what was going on in the first place. Fred always teased him about how he was too nice— what would he do if this person suddenly just lunged forward and attacked him? He would die, and then nothing much more could be gained from this situation, really. A paranoid thought at best, though they were habitual to the student. "Are you hurt?" He asked, angling the light so that he could try and see properly what was going on, or try and find out whether or not he could help. "Do you need some—"

His words stopped abruptly, the young man's eyes widening in an accumulation of many things. As he finally managed to work out the angle of the light, he casted a bright shine over the crumpled form, and what he saw made his face write over with confusion, worry, fear, and most of all concern. The form that was sprawled in a painful-looking position on the ground was…Hiro. He hadn't seen the boy in such a long time— nearly months. Really, he hadn't seen the kid ever since the fire. He hadn't even the seen boy during Tadashi's funeral, and yet suddenly there the little kid was, looking to be asleep or unconscious on the street of some grimy alley. Immediately, Wasabi's concern for himself flew out the window, replaced at once with the idea of the younger as he twisted around immediately to get out of the driver's seat.

He rounded the car, still keeping his phone on flashlight mode as he rushed over to Hiro, coming to a skidding stop beside him before kneeling down. He reached over, pausing briefly before putting his hand down on the boy's shoulder, turning him over gently so that instead of being prostrate on the ground, he was laying on his back. He didn't open his eyes at the shift, and Wasabi drew back with a tingling sense of panic as he picked up his phone again to shine the light directly into the boy's face. His movements came along as a little rash, yet there wasn't much more of an option he had in the moment. All he could think was bemused anxiety for Tadashi's younger brother. What was he doing all the way out here? Why was he unconscious? The boy seemed to have a few injuries, but they were minimal. Small scrapes and just a few beginnings of bruises. So…what was going on?

"Hiro?" Wasabi demanded, repeating the kid's name when he didn't react. "Hiro, are you awake?" Again, the teenager remained unresponsive, and Wasabi started to wonder if he would have to call an ambulance for him. That, or at least Aunt Cass. "Hiro; come on, Little Man, talk to me. What's going on? What are you doing all the way out here; what happened?" He reached over and shook Hiro's shoulder once more, a tad more forceful with this one now as he increased the pressure on the little one. This seemed to work out better than the other had before— Hiro's forehead creased over in what looked to be slight irritation by the sharp nudge. So Wasabi latched onto the idea and repeated the rough movement. "Hiro, come on, wake up." He said, his mind flying to anything he could do. He could call Go-Go or Honey. Heck, even Fred. He was running through every option in his confusion, not at all sure which one was the best to do in such a situation like this. Mostly because…well, he had never been in a situation like this before. He didn't even really know the situation that he had just walked into.

There was a small moan of discomfort from the ground, and Wasabi was alerted to attention as Hiro grimaced blearily, the boy rousing as his eyes started to open bit by bit. He winced, closing his eyes again as if opening them caused some kind of pain. But eventually the kid adjusted, opening half-lidded eyes and staring up at the other. There was blankness to his gaze, as if he weren't actually paying attention to what was in front of him. Wasabi's concern in no amount faltered as the boy stared vacantly, and he tried again, seriously debating the whole Hospital thing by now. "Hiro, what are you doing? What's wrong?"

The boy's eyes fluttered closed briefly, and he gave out something that was almost like a sigh— a long and slow exhale that caused his bangs to flutter up slightly from where they hung down near his eyes. "…M'sick…" He mumbled out of the corner of his mouth, Wasabi blinking at the odd explanation. "I feel…bad." The teenager went on in a small rasp. The boy's face creased over and he made a move as if to get up. "…not good…"

"Does Aunt Cass know where you are?" Wasabi demanded, reaching over and pushing the kid back down in the boy's attempts to stand. It obviously wasn't working, and until he knew what was going on, he wasn't about to let Hiro do something that could potentially only make it worse. Though the younger did certainly seem sick. Or at least, not himself. In the air, there seemed to be a sour tang— the smell of something that came across like it should be familiar. But the dank smells of the alleyway were interfering too much with whatever it was; there wasn't any kind of opportunity to try and narrow down the odd odor without being jumbled up in the trash that was around them. And maybe that was all it was in the first place— just the garbage and thrown-away things that people tucked away in here. It certainly wasn't an unfounded idea.

Hiro continued in his struggle to get up, and Wasabi winced a little bit as he reached over, attempting to try and settle him down. There didn't seem to be any kind of bad injuries that the boy could make worse, but he certainly looked like a sight. His face was hollow— he was much skinnier than he had been last time the young man had seen him, he thought. His face was more drawn than before, and the boy's eyes were rimmed with obscenely dark circles. When he started to move, the boy's face wrote over with a certain degree of pain, and Wasabi asked his question again, louder than before now as he put his hands on the younger one's shoulders.

"Hiro, does Aunt Cass know where you are?" He asked, stressing the words separately in the attempt to drive sense into the boy's mind. He distinctly remembered Tadashi's sense of irritation whenever he used to talk about his brother and the nightly excursions the young boy did to downtown bot fights. Obviously it was a source of pain for Tadashi, who always said that the boy was wasting his talents on such idiotic, illegal things. But from the way that Tadashi always spoke about things, it always seemed like if Aunt Cass knew about what the boy was doing, she never outright seemed to show that she was against it. Wasabi always meant to ask more about the topic, but he always refrained since it was something that always made Tadashi angry or upset. And his old friend never really did make the habit of doing so, which made it even worse when the occurrence did come across.

Hiro shifted slightly, as if he were trying to wriggle out of the man's grip. But after a moment or two, as if the boy had to process the inquiry before answering, the young teenager's head went up and down limply in a distant kind of nod. Wasabi gave one of his own at the confirmation, and he repeated one of his other questions, in hopes that the boy would only continue to make sense from here on out. "What happened, Hiro? What are you doing all the way out here? Don't you know how late it is?"

"…feel sick." The boy mumbled, reaching up awkwardly to press the palm of his hand against his forehead with a wince. "I was…meant to go…go back home." He was trying so hard to get up, and each time that Wasabi prevented the action, his efforts only increased. So finally the older of the two realized the inevitability of it all, standing up himself and keeping hold of the boy's arms, helping him up and steadying the boy once he got up to his feet. Hiro's head drooped forward a little bit, the boy blinking rapidly in the effort to concentrate. He swayed from the left to the right, stumbling every so often in the attempt to stand in a controlled, upright position. He swallowed briefly before going on. "I think I….I think I fell or something." His voice trailed off for a moment, and his forehead creased as he suddenly looked up to peer at the older college student. "When did you get here?"

"Look, I think we need to take you somewhere." Wasabi said, not bothering to answer him as he studied his friend. "Maybe to the doctor." He paused briefly, watching as Hiro tried to take back his arms, the younger only managing to twist awkwardly to the side— not really accomplishing much. "Look— I'll drive you to the Hospital. Do you have to go the Hospital? Let me drive you." His mind was rushing to a million different things at once and it was getting hard to realize what was going on or what he needed to do. He had no clue to be frankly honest. And he wasn't the best under pressure.

Hiro was shaking his head even before he could finish talking. "No." He said abruptly, his words surpassingly flatter and sharper than they had been the entire time that Wasabi had been talking to him. He tried to take his arms back, but the attempt was just as successful as the others had been. "No, I just want to go home. I have to get home." He grew almost angry at this, his eyes narrowing as he put more effort into yanking his hands back to himself. "Get off of me; I don't have to go to the Hospital. I just have to— I just have to get home, so get off."

"Stop, Hiro." Wasabi said, increasing his hold on the boy after the younger almost capsized again. Feeling at a loss and sighing softly underneath his breath, Wasabi shook his head. "I can drive you home." He offered after a moment, Hiro coming to a stop as he blinked a few times, looking confused at the sudden change in topic. "I'll drive you home, I'm not going to let you just walk back. My car is right there; just get into the passenger seat. Okay? Will you at least let me drive you home?" He still had no idea what was going on, he certainly wasn't going to let Hiro walk all the way back to the cafe by himself. It was too dark in the first place— and now that the kid seemed so sick, there wasn't really much argument in what was going on. And besides, Aunt Cass would know better on what to do than he would with the boy. If need be, she could be the one to take him to the Hospital if she thought such a thing was needed.

So he turned and helped Hiro into the passenger side of the car, the boy reaching up with a limp arm, grabbing at the seatbelt and tugging it down over himself. Wasabi shut the door and went to take his own respective seat, Hiro taking about four times before he could manage to shove the buckle down into its clamp without messing it up and mistiming the distance to it. But once Hiro managed it, leaning back slightly and slouching down into the seat with a bleary, numb expression, Wasabi started up the car again, coming out of park and starting to drive back down the road. He changed directions now, mapping out the quickest route that would take him back to Hiro's house. And, realizing that the boy might be nauseous, he cracked open the window of the passenger side of the car, hoping that the constant breeze would help alleviate any feelings of illness.

There was a long beat of silence, a few minutes passing by with not even a shared glance between the two; or at least, whenever Wasabi looked over Hiro's way, the boy remained staring vacantly forward. Finally, clearing his throat with a sense of awkwardness, Wasabi started to slowly breach conversation. "So…how are you? I haven't really seen you since…" He trailed off, unsure on whether or not bringing up such a thing would help in this situation. Hiro already looked pretty distant— if he brought up Tadashi, it would probably only make things worse. So he shook his head and backtracked slightly in order to correct himself. "I haven't seen you in a while. What have you been up to?"

Hiro had started to deflate, the boy slipping down and taking to resting against the side of the car door, his head ducked down so that his chin was almost touching his chest. "…nothing." He mumbled from the rather uncomfortable-looking position, sparing no movement before answering. He looked really sick— sick enough that Wasabi was starting to wonder if he should stop the car before the boy had the chance to ruin any of his carpeting.

Wasabi tried to make a few more attempts at conversation until he realized that the boy had fallen asleep again, Hiro's eyes shut as he became motionless and silent once more. Which was fine— being asleep and quiet was better than being awake and puking in the college student's opinion. So he stopped pressing, taking the rest of the ride home to Aunt Cass' in the quiet that was presented before him.

However, near halfway back to the bakery, there was a small buzzing sound. At first Wasabi tried to dismiss it; however as the sound continued on, he started to wonder if there was a problem with the car. But no— the weird sound was coming from something in Hiro's hand. Stopped at a red light, curiosity overtook Wasabi, and he leaned over to pry the thing out of the boy's grasp. He wouldn't consider such a thing before, but now the thought of privacy didn't really occur to him. It was late, he was tired, he'd just found Hiro in this startlingly-concerning position, and now something was buzzing. He felt entitled to at least a little bit of knowledge. Even if the knowledge was something stupid like a simple vibrating sound.

It was a phone, he realized, as he held the rectangular device. It was an odd sort of reminder— Tadashi was always the one to have the cellphone out of the Hamada brothers. Since normally Hiro was found alongside his brother, the need for two never really came across. This one was new too; Hiro must have been given it by Aunt Cass since Tadashi had… Wasabi didn't allow himself to finish the thought, glancing over at Hiro with a sense of curiosity, and then back down at the vibrating phone. It looked like he'd just gotten it— it was a brand new phone if Wasabi had ever seen one. That, factored in along with the idea of the position that the man had found Hiro in, such a thing caused a sense of suspicion to root itself in the pit of his stomach. He hadn't seen Hiro in ages— Aunt Cass said he holed up inside of his room most days. So who would have his brand new number?

He paused a moment more, eyeing Hiro as if he was waiting to see whether or not the boy would react to the incoming call. But Hiro was oblivious, curled away with his back almost to the driver. So Wasabi looked down, answering the call on one of its final rings and bringing the phone up to his ear. Of course, talking on the phone while driving at the same time was irresponsible— he pulled over once he managed to get out of the intersection. Thankfully, it wasn't all that hard considering that nobody else was on the roads. And as soon as he pulled over, and as soon as he answered the phone, he was instantly attacked by whoever was on the other line, a sharp yell coming from the other end that was loud enough to make him wince slightly.

"Hiro?" The voice asked, not even waiting for a reply before it launched itself forward. "Hiro, I know I told you that you could go and stay out for as long as you want, but I think somebody forgot that there was a condition to that rule!" Wasabi instantly landed on the name of the other person, the young man opening his mouth to speak in order to cut her off. But the opposite happened as the woman continued to rant into her own receiver. "I called you three times before this one, Hiro! Three times! I can't let you keep going out like this if you don't keep the promises that you make! When you make a promise, I expect you to keep it, young man, and I can't take your word for anything anymore, I don't even want to know where that leads us! I know you've been very upset recently, but that doesn't give you the right to go out and do things like this! You can't keep breaking your word, you can't keep on staying out late, and you can't keep on…" There was a small lapse in which there was a sharp intake of breath, and when the woman spoke up again, her voice had dropped ten degrees in its hostility. "…I'm sorry." She murmured. "I'm sorry— I just need to know if you're okay. Are you okay?"

There was a long moment of quiet. Silence clogged itself in between Wasabi and the woman on the other end, and the young man looked back over at Hiro, startled by the concern that was reaching his ears. "Um—" Wasabi cleared his throat in a small cough, an uncomfortable look on his face as he started to speak. "Hey. Aunt Cass, it's me: Wasabi." He said slowly, using the name that Tadashi and Hiro compulsively used while addressing the woman. It was a force of habit, he guessed with a rather bittersweet emotion.

There was a stutter of surprise from the other side of the phone. And then, immediately, like she was always having the tendency to, Aunt Cass started to fall over herself in her words. "Wasabi? You're— oh, oh! Okay! Hello!" She fumbled, sounding oddly relieved at the idea of talking to him. "I was wondering if— okay, this is— good. Uhm, what's going on?" There was a hint of fear as she brought up this question, which only grew as she piled on more. "Is Hiro with you? Is he okay? Can I talk to him? He isn't in trouble or anything, is he? I called his phone, but he never answered…?"

Wasabi hesitated. He glanced over at the young teenager one last time; Aunt Cass seemed to be well aware of the idea that Hiro was out and about now. "He's fine." He assured the woman, feeling awful in the idea that the Guardian was so upset and high-strung. "He fell asleep a few minutes ago." He paused for a second. "He said something about feeling sick, so I offered to drive him home. That's okay, right? You weren't wanting anything else, were you?"

"Oh, no." Aunt Cass seemed to find satisfaction in the answer. "Thank you— I just didn't have any idea where he was. He just got the phone this morning, so I was worried if he just didn't know how to work it, or there was a problem with it, or just if something had happened to him. I'm sorry— I must seem like such a worrier." She gave a limp series of giggles at this— Wasabi offered his own at her attempt at a joke. "Okay— uhm, do you know when you'll be back? Will it be soon?"

Wasabi glanced around, considered the question. "We shouldn't be too far away."

"Alright, then, I can wait for him, then. He didn't mention anything about feeling sick earlier, now I feel bad for letting him out in the first place." Wasabi started to wonder whether or not he should mention the way that he had found the boy. But he bit the topic back upon further contemplation— Aunt Cass seemed worried already, and he didn't want to further the idea. Plus, she already seemed to know that he had gone out like this. The boy must have just been struck with whatever kind of sickness he was experiencing and fell. Wasabi certainly had had his own fair share of awful spells. Then again, it was still a very peculiar situation; he decided that he would make a note of the boy's number. He would then call him tomorrow and ask more about what had happened. But until then he wouldn't bother Aunt Cass with it. The boy could have been doing something simple like walking back from the mall and then gotten seized with nausea or a severe headache.

The two said their goodbyes, Aunt Cass offering a few more thank-you's in the process. And then Wasabi hung up, turning and putting the phone back down lightly on the boy's lap, trying his best not to disturb him in the process. And then, pulling away from the curb with the required blinker switch, Wasabi started back to the bakery again. It took around fifteen or twenty minutes to get to the destination— a mostly-silent ride back considering that Hiro was still dead-asleep, and Wasabi was unwilling to rouse him from it. However once Wasabi pulled up to the store and put the car in park, he found that there was no other alternative.

He paused a moment before leaning over, reaching out and giving the boy's shoulder a light shake. It didn't do as the boy remained oblivious, Wasabi pursing his lips in brief confusion. Eyeing the already- cracked window that Hiro was leaning against, Wasabi turned back to the side, rolling down the glass the rest of the way and letting the blistering-cold into the car fully. The wind had picked up during the night, and Hiro's forehead slowly creased over in annoyance and surprise as a breeze flew in to land squarely into his face. His fuzzy eyes cracked open in a half-lidded, narrowed stare. There was a disgruntled look on his face, but there was still that vacant property to it, and it made Wasabi wonder if he had woken him up all the way entirely.

"Hiro?" He asked. "Are you awake?"

Hiro grimaced deeply, reaching up and pressing his hands against his forehead. Tadashi's words burned themselves in his foggy, warped mind: 'Hiro? Are you awake?' Behind fuzzy surroundings and incoherent senses, the boy could remember the achingly-familiar grin of his older brother that the words drug up. He made a small noise in the back of his throat in what Wasabi took as a response, unbeknownst to the boy's own thoughts. The young student paused for a moment before leaning forward a little bit, his eyes narrowing as he observed the younger. "Hiro, what were you doing before I found you?" He asked rather bluntly. But Hiro only responded by dropping his arms limply down to the seat of the car. He stared straight ahead, outside the windshield of the car as he remained mute and unresponsive. So Wasabi tried again. "Did Aunt Cass know what you were doing?"

There was a long pause. Then Hiro gave a slow nod.

Wasabi nodded as well. Though there was still an awkward tension that seemed to remain tightly in between them. What was it? What was the matter here? "…Okay, then." He said eventually, though he was still uncertain, and it showed in his voice. "Well, I brought you home. Aunt Cass is probably waiting for you inside, so…" Remembering how he'd had to help the boy stand before, he paused before asking: "Do you need help out?"

He shook his head as an answer. Offering no further conversation, the boy ducked forward slightly, hunching his shoulders as he turned to open the car door. He offered a monotone 'thank-you' as he did so— his gratitude coming off as sour and bland compared to the warm 'you're welcome' that Wasabi returned to him. The college student watched as the young teenager slid out of the car ungraciously, walking a little unsteadily towards the front door of the cafe, resembling almost a baby deer that was struggling to balance on its thin legs for the first time. Aunt Cass was just now coming down the stairs, looking concerned even from where Wasabi sat. The woman met her nephew at the door, worried and over-worked as she enveloped him into a hug.

It was clear that she wasn't even thinking anymore at the sight of her nephew. Her mouth moved silently, Wasabi of course being unable to make out what she was saying. Hiro was talking as well, and the man experienced a sense of frustration at the idea that he couldn't listen incompletely. Aunt Cass perked in order to wave at the person who had driven Hiro home, the other arm slung over the boy's shoulders and holding him close. It was funny— usually Hiro would offer an awkward smile at such closeness. Usually, in the past, whenever Aunt Cass seemed to baby him so openly, he would give off the 'I-love-you-but-I-can't-believe-you're-being-so-embaressing-right-now-right-in-front-of-people' kind of grin. Now he looked the same as he had before in the car: numbed and detached from whatever was going on. He looked pale in the light of the cafe, too, Wasabi realized. A startlingly-whitish-green shade. He must really be sick.

But it was confusing. That was the only word he could think of. He could swallow the excuses, finding sense in the fact that the boy might have just been seized by illness. He could inference what had happened tonight and figure that the boy had just been taken to the downtown area on a weekend, for the idea wasn't unfounded. He could think that the boy was just finally getting over his brother's death and he was now starting to rejoin life in his leaving the bakery tonight. Wasabi brought up given excuses such as sickness, and he even went so far as to tell himself that it wasn't really his place right now to wonder what was happening at all. But he couldn't help it. And as he watched Aunt Cass switch the lights of the cafe off, and as he watched the woman lead her stumbling, talking nephew up the stairs, he knew that he shouldn't overthink things or let them get out of proportion. But he couldn't just not worry. He couldn't not worry about the kid that, in such a short amount of time, had become part of their close group. He couldn't just forget about Tadashi's little brother just because Tadashi wasn't around anymore. But he also couldn't place ridiculous blame on the boy in a situation that he had just walked into suddenly. He had no facts of what happened, and until he had facts, he wasn't about to go around assuming things. That wasn't the kind of person he was. So he just had to settle with the idea being confusing— he didn't really have any other option. Maybe he would have another when he called Hiro back, for he had quickly memorized the boy's number after checking his phone briefly.

He switched the car out of park, turning and pulling away from the bakery and starting back to his apartment—the place that he should have arrived at nearly thirty minutes ago. He realized in the back of his mind that that meant he probably wouldn't be asleep for another hour or so after this. Then again, the concern wasn't at the forefront of his mind as he started down the road. He knew that tomorrow he would have something to bring up to the rest of the group— everyone had been so worried about Hiro these recent months. They had even gone so far as to try and go to the cafe directly to see if he could be brought down to them. That wasn't even listing all of the web videos and emails they had sent his way. Now Wasabi had finally seen him, and…

He remembered the smell from before. Tried to discern it again to see whether or not it had been left behind in the alley. It had reminded him of something, and sure enough there was the smallest hint of something left behind in the car. But no— the origin of where it had come from was just as evasive as the hint of the odor in the first place. It wasn't nearly as strong as it had been in the alley— it must not have been anything. Just a smell picked up from downtown and smothered away by the window of the car that had been left open the whole drive back.

He told himself firmly to let it go.

It couldn't have been important anyway.

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A/N: I would really love to hear some feedback from you guys before I turn to post the next chapter! :)


	4. Chapter 4

It became something of a routine. Lies, once having left a bitter taste on the back of Hiro's tongue whenever they were forced out, now came across as simple and even commonplace. Half of his vocabulary consisted of deception and falsehood; yet, in severe contrast to his character before, Hiro didn't mind the fact; he didn't care in the slightest. Far more evenings than not he was out of the house, Aunt Cass under the pretense that he was out with friends or going off to look at the college again. The fourteen-year-old had told his guardian that, since registration was far overdue by now, he would consider signing up during the second semester. Such a promise, though reliably empty on his part, naturally thrilled his aunt. So she did not raise an eyebrow on the boy's frequent 'visits' to the campus. As long as the boy provided fabricated details of his supposed trips down there, she could swallow the idea wholeheartedly.

However the boy's nights were not filled with long hallways of students, or scientific laboratories that provoked interest and wonder. They were instead replaced with an array of things, quite unlike something that could be found inside of a classroom or a library. The boy would flip up the hood of his sweatshirt, bent over against the frigid weather as he made the necessary call. Redhead would always pick up at least by the third ring, and then it would play out from there. That was the only end of the routine that could ever end up changing. He could be given the things that he needed — always the same request for alcohol, and now the pills that had been added to the list — or Redhead would offer other options. She would volunteer places to go or other things to fill their time and money with. And it wasn't like Hiro cared what they did in the first place; he had thought it many times over when such a thing transpired: he didn't necessarily mind what he did, as long as the same goal was achieved in the end.

So he was obedient. When Redhead offered him other types of pills — such as capsules of particularly strong painkillers that, if taken the correct dosage, would induce a sleepy, peaceful haze — he accepted with minimal, if not nonexistent, hesitation. And when Redhead steered him instead into the deeper parts of town, and ushered him into shady hang-outs, he barely batted an eye. How could he? Because either roundabout way he took, it eventually led him to the same ending. The pills that the girl had given him initially provided him with a wrapped, oddly tranquil lapse of the mind as his body was forced to deal with the foreign chemicals. Sometimes the effects would last more than an hour; and the boy would relish in the drawn-out episodes of paralyzed peace, his mind left insensible and foggy. The alcohol would serve a similar purpose, yet at least with the drinks, he was also given the sense of warmth that he's begun to associate with security.

The problems left in the wake of the substances were not nearly at the forefront of his mind. He could deal with the nausea left after his mind was dragged back up into motion again. He could deal with the headaches left from swallowing down the alcohol, and he could deal with the aftereffects that the 'medicine' brought with it. Thanks to the sickness that usually resulted in the boy hunching himself over the toilet, Hiro had been losing more weight than normal. Since Tadashi's death, he had refused to each much in the first place, though now that his body was struggling to force the foul things back up and out of his system, the loss had nearly doubled. Aunt Cass had voiced concern over this aspect multiple times with the boy's clothes being much baggier than they had been on him two weeks ago; not to mention that his overall appearance in general accentuated his newfound pallor quite obviously.

But Hiro disregarded the questions that were shot his way. He was dismissive of most things when it came to Aunt Cass by now, and as a result, the two of them hardly talked. Most of the time it wasn't on purpose— Hiro had just taken to becoming despondent and silent, staring off into space with just the smallest hint of a frown whenever he was stuck back at home. But sometimes it was intended, the teenager pointedly avoiding his aunt and refusing to acknowledge her whenever she tried to approach him. Such a relationship was now bridging between the two of them, and Aunt Cass, who had learned her lesson from multiple failed attempts at trying to wriggle out conversation from her nephew, was left just standing off to the side, an extremely sad expression hanging over her features. It was clear that she was upset, and that with the way Hiro was acting, he wasn't helping in the slightest. But, yet again…he couldn't find any more reason to care.

He just wanted the oblivion, and so far this was just the only way to get it. Any consequences were unimportant.

It had been a few weeks since his first meeting with Redhead down at the pier. And it had only taken a week after that night to establish their routine of calls and exchanges. Upon the first call that he had made to Redhead, Hiro had almost been stopped by the anxiety that came with the mere idea of all of this. The young boy had been wary in the idea of handing over money in exchange for illegal substances; but now it was second nature to him. It was simple. He either got the money from winning bot fights, or he stole some from the cash register whenever Aunt Cass wasn't looking. He would then proceed to call Redhead, and walk downtown to meet her. There wasn't much to it anymore to Hiro— he was fully desensitized in every aspect of the word.

Now, the boy was waiting on the side of the street, seated on the curb as he tucked his nose down underneath the collar of his sweatshirt. It had gotten progressively colder with each passing day— just a reminder that pretty soon there would be snow on the ground instead of rain. For the past week it seemed like the rain wouldn't stop, and now that it finally did, there was a layering of fog hanging over the ground. The mist was unnaturally thick, and it made seeing a foot in front of your nose difficult. All the same though, Hiro had made the decision to meet up with Redhead. Aunt Cass had mentioned something about going out to dinner, and that was the last thing that Hiro wanted. If such a thing were to occur, not only would he be forced to sit directly across from Aunt Cass for the absolute minimum of an hour, but he would also be forced to eat. So Hiro had excused himself directly, more or less stating that he would go out by himself instead— not that tactful in the way that he rejected his guardian.

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The boy had walked downtown, which had taken up the majority of his time, and then he had found someplace out-of-the-way to wait for the tattooed girl. She had asked him to meet in a very specific spot that was at least somewhat familiar to the boy; Hiro realized that with this meeting spot, Redhead was probably having the idea of going someplace rather than just handing over what he needed. He looked down, checking the time on his phone as the thought crossed his mind. It was only turning 7:00 now— he would have enough time. At least five hours of it.

No sooner did Hiro look down at his phone did the small thing start vibrating in his hand. The teenager stiffened slightly at the sudden call, though once the initial shock of it wore off, his eyes narrowed into slits instead. He'd memorized the calling number in the past two weeks; mostly because the only contact in his phone was Aunt Cass, and this set of numbers was much different. But he knew without even thinking who it was; it wasn't a stretch to know considering Wasabi called him nearly every day now. Though Hiro's thought process tended to be blurred and fuzzy when he thought back to instances when he was under the influence, he distantly remembered how Tadashi's old friend had driven him home from the pier— or wherever he had wandered to from there, he still wasn't really sure how far he had walked on his own. He remembered not saying much, just asking Wasabi to let him go home. He really only remembered snatches— things were difficult for him to recall up until he had woken up the next day with Aunt Cass hovering over him worriedly. Yet it was obvious that he had done something to make the other concerned. Concerned or suspicious. Otherwise he wouldn't be calling every single chance he could get.

Unnerved, Hiro felt anger curl in the back of his stomach as a scowl crossed over his features. Why wouldn't Wasabi just leave him alone? You'd think after fifty rejected calls, someone would give up. As the barbed thought crossed his mind, he hung up without even answering, tucking the phone away and giving out a short sigh that ruffled the cloth of his hoodie. He just wanted everyone to leave him alone— was that really such a difficult concept for other people to grasp? It seemed to be; because everywhere he turned people were demanding his obviously-unwilling attention. Even customers at the cafe wouldn't let him walk out of the building without trying to hold him up.

Stewing in his own self-pity and misery, Hiro glared into space. He didn't pay attention to what was going on around him, and in effect, he didn't notice as Redhead came into view through the fog. Her appearance went unnoticed until she spoke up, raising her voice into a small yell that caused the fourteen-year-old to jerk back into the present. "Hey Grumpy! You ready?" She greeted, Hiro not even bothering to correct her on the name she used as he merely stood up from the side of the walkway. Starting to wish that he had brought a heavier coat, he pulled his sweatshirt tighter to himself, trying his best to keep his teeth from chattering. He didn't reply as Redhead came closer, and she raised her eyebrows at him skeptically. "…Well don't answer me all at once." She said tartly.

He sighed. "I've been ready for more than an hour now." He said, a tiny hint of bitterness in his voice. But he quickly shook his head free of the emotion, sticking his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat briefly as he ducked out from underneath his jacket to speak properly. "You took your time in getting here." He said instead, forcing himself to indulge in at least a little conversation. If he didn't, the process of getting his things took longer than he liked.

As he noted this, Redhead rolled her eyes, lifting up her arm and extending the bag she held over to Hiro. "Whatever." She said, sounding not in the least bit offended by the words. Hiro took the offering, looking inside to see yet another pack of alcohol. There weren't any more pills— he had purchased a whole bottle of them last time he had met up with the girl. So, as required, he handed over the payment, which the girl with the star tattoo accepted quickly. And as she tucked away the money, she cleared her throat, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to point back the way she had come. "I've gotta get going— I've got a group to meet twenty blocks down." But not long after the words escaped her mouth did she stop, a small hint of a smirk curling at the corners of her mouth. "Unless you wanna join me?"

Hiro was already opening his mouth to reject the offer. An extended night of 'socialization' wasn't on his list of priorities. He had already been planning on tucking himself away in the garage for the rest of the night— a much more isolated plan that frankly appealed to him a lot more than anything else. However he stopped himself short, hesitating briefly. If he went home, he always ran the risk of having Aunt Cass spot him and possibly find out what he was doing. Now that they rarely ever spoke, her worry had increased so much that it was almost like another entity entirely, a dark cloud that would always steer Hiro's way whenever it found something odd or out of place. And as he looked at Redhead from the lip of the plastic bag he held, and as he judged the mischievous look that was on her face, he figured that the group she was meeting didn't convene to discuss biblical passages.

So, after a brief pause, he shrugged. "Sure." He said with a small nod. "I don't care."

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Hiro sat against the wall reclusively, his knees drawn up into his chest in what was apparently the new habit for the teenager. Overhead, the sound of cars going to and fro created a roar in the background of the events unfolding around him, though if the boy were to be honest he would realize that he wasn't really paying attention to anything anymore. When Redhead had said 'group', Hiro had been under the impression that such a thing entitled the inclusion of maybe five or six other people. He hadn't been expecting a group of fifty of more, all clustered together and mingling underneath one of the overhanging highway bridges. Conversation was just as droning as the engines that were driving over them, and everybody here seemed to know at least ten other people, which left Hiro out, since he only knew one other person— and even then, he didn't know her real name.

So he had found a corner, which wasn't as hard as he had expected it to be. And he started to delve into the bag that had been handed to him. Most of the people here were going at least something similar. There was a group near the front of the opening that spent their time passing cigarettes from person to person— that or something like cigarettes that Hiro couldn't remember the name for. There were three people sitting against the wall as well a few feet away from Hiro who seemed to be organizing syringes on the ground. And a fairly large amount of people were busy cheering along a drinking contest that was taking place near the head of the party. At least Hiro could only decide to label it as a party— what else could it be, really?

He observed the goings-on around him and tried to find interest in it, but recently everything seemed as interesting to him as paint drying on a wall. He couldn't even bring himself to wonder where Redhead had gotten off to, or wonder why she had been so quick to leave him behind and not drag him along. He just sat and drank, wishing in the back of his mind that he had brought some of the pills that were currently tucked underneath his pillow. They acted much faster than the alcohol did— it seemed like every time that he drank, it took more of the liquid to produce the reaction that he wanted. Even now, when he was deep into his second bottle, he was only just now starting to turn off.

So he started into another, going quickly through the pack that had been provided to him a little more than two hours ago. He would have to go bot fighting tomorrow, and he would have to raise the stakes high enough to be able to get more to replace this one— preferably as soon as he could. Or if he couldn't manage to get away for that long, he could take from the register again. Aunt Cass was usually busy around the lunch and dinner rush— he could do it during those. Or when she was busy wiping down the tables. As long as he did it quickly, she wouldn't notice, he was sure of it. And until the woman started to notice that they were losing money, what was the harm in it? What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her, would it? No, he told himself firmly, it wouldn't; not at all. If she didn't notice, then she obviously didn't care enough about it. And if she tried to stop him from leaving, he would just tell her that he was off to the college again. She got ecstatic whenever he even mentioned that place— she wouldn't dare stop him once he pulled that excuse. He took another deep inhale from the bottle he held, the plans growing steadily in his slightly warped mind just as the warm feeling in his chest was.

The thoughts accumulated into stacks, falling into place right next to one another as he looked through unfocused eyes at the events around him. At the drinking contests, at the people gathered together in groups, at the smoke that was rising up into the air and camouflaging into the fog, at the people next to him that were now voluntarily injecting needles into their arms and breaking through their skin. And all of a sudden another thought, one that was unwarranted, unexpected, rose out among the others.

Tadashi would be so disappointed in you.

The thought was unprovoked, and it hit the young boy like a punch to the gut. As if he really had been struck, his eyes rounded out in shock and something that closely resembled pain. The thought came across as vehement and cold, having a spitting edge to it that left Hiro feeling a sort stinging pain, as if slapped. His lungs seemed to freeze, the breaths that the boy managed to choke down not seeming to quell the burning sensation that was coming to replace the peaceful one that he had just started to establish. His jaw went slightly slack and his grip on the glass bottle increased tenfold. His mind, so fogged-over and relaxed a few moments before, stuttered, as if it was just as caught off-guard by the thought as Hiro was. And then the phrase came again, sharper than it had been before.

Tadashi would be so disappointed in you.

The fourteen-year-old's hands were shaking now, the fact coming across as he looked down to see that the liquid left inside of the bottle was wrought with ripples and small waves. He gasped sharply through the pain that was starting to squeeze around him, and, rashly, he tried to replace the sensation with the other. He raised the lip of the bottle up to his mouth and choked down as much as he could of the liquor in one take. In a newfound, almost urgent sense, he struggled down every drop. The alcohol burned his nose and throat, his stomach clenching even tighter at the sudden chug. His mind whirled, confused with all it had been handed as it spun like a top. And when every bit was drained, when the glass was reduced to an empty shell, Hiro doubled over, a small noise of pain working out through his throat as he ducked down into his legs.

He let go of the bottle carelessly to raise his arms up to fold over his head. If the thought, which was slowly starting to fester in the back of his mind, was an earthquake, then he was trying to shield his head from the debris that was raining down. His shoulders started to shake in time with his hands, and whatever breath he managed to take in was scraped pathetically through his burning throat. His drunken mind pieced together images and thoughts, the boy able to picture his brother as clearly as if he were standing in front of him: arms crossed over his chest and a judgmental stare burning a hole straight through the younger. 'Tadashi would expect better of you. He wouldn't want this.' Hiro shook his throbbing head, as if to try and shoo away the sudden assault.

The dark-haired boy suddenly clenched his fingers, digging his nails into his skull painfully as he straightened. His unfocused eyes went down to the bag, and as the plastic seemed to bounce and wave in his unsteady vision, he tried to pinpoint its location effectively. He just needed more— more would make everything stop. It would clear his mind of Tadashi, of the awful idea that was now stabbing every inch of him. But it was clear as he choked down the next that it wouldn't be enough. He should have brought the pills. He should have gotten more alcohol. He should have done more than this, because it wasn't working. He needed something else. Anything else to block out the thoughts.

As the boy choked down mouthful after mouthful, Redhead was making her way haphazardly back to him. She was accompanied with a few other friends who trailed behind her, and every so often the tattooed girl would give out a laugh or two as a product of the conversation they were holding. However she cut herself short as her eyes landed on the form of Hiro against the wall, and she smiled crookedly at the sight of the younger. It was clear by the way that she walked and spoke that she had had her fair share of alcohol as well. But she came to a stop in font of Hiro anyway, leaning down and quickly getting the other to his feet with a cheerful bubble of laughter, despite the sight that the boy looked.

Hiro stumbled slightly as he was forced up to stand, his knees taking a spastic moment before locking in order to hold him up properly. Beckoning to her friends, Redhead cleared her throat importantly, wrapping an arm around the small boy as she spoke loudly over the other conversations that were filling up the space. "This is Hiro." She introduced the boy to the others. She nodded for a moment before adding on: "He's my sad little puppy." As she made this comparison, she hugged the boy tightly to her side, that sloppy smirk splayed fully on her face. Hiro didn't react at the title— he didn't react to the tight embrace, either. He remained quiet, looking almost lost as he blinked rapidly, trying to discern what was going on and who was standing in front of him. "Isn't he adorable?" Redhead snickered.

"I've been wondering where you've gotten off to recently." One of them sneered, a guy sporting a pair of jeans that looked about two sizes too small for him. "What? Is he your newest project?" The words were intended to be humorous and the boy gave out a small laugh before shaking his head. He instead waved off the attempt at comedy, reaching over and balling his hand into a fist. He let his arm hang there for a moment, and Hiro stared down at the gesture as if it were something alien to him. As if the thought had occurred to the older boy as well, he accentuated the offer by explaining: "It's a fist bump, kid. You're supposed to tap it."

There was a lump in the boy's throat the size of a melon. It made it difficult to breathe, and he was sure that if he tried to speak, words would not come out properly. However, the action causing him physical pain, Hiro complied and reached out, fisting his hand and tapping it lightly against the others. The newcomer did not react like Tadashi would have— he did not smile widely and yank his arm backwards, ending the exchange by mimicking the sound of an explosion. Hiro, by force of habit, almost succumbed to doing such a thing. However he didn't get a chance to as the other just turned back over to Redhead, and Hiro was stopped short, left looking down at his fist as if it had just morphed into a fruit.

"So the night's still young." The guy with the tight pants declared, though by now it had to be at least somewhere around eleven. "I say that we skip this place and go back to mine." The other people behind him —those that seemed more acquainted with Redhead than Hiro was— nodded in a group agreement. Surprisingly, most of them didn't seem as fuzzy as Hiro was, the boy having to focus painstakingly just to narrow down his vision and stop it from shaking back and forth. Either they hadn't had their share of drinks, or they were just more tolerant than the boy; most likely it was the latter, considering not only was Hiro younger, but he was much smaller than anyone else as well. The boy who had bumped Hiro's fist raised his eyebrows at Redhead, turning then to point over his way. "What do you say? You can bring him along if you want."

Redhead started to answer, bringing up her finger as if she were preparing to launch into something important. However Hiro spoke up before she could, shaking his head and wincing at the pain that the movement caused. "No, I've got to— I've got to go home." He mumbled weakly, glancing back over at the bag left on the ground behind him as he remembered that he still had one beer left. "You go on ahead, it's fine…"

"Aw, c'mon, Hiro." Redhead snorted, sounding exasperated. "I thought you wanted to have fun." There was a pause, Hiro reaching up with shaking hands to press them against his forehead, ducking his head low as he flinched. The noise of the cars above them was getting too loud— the combining smells of alcohol and smoke was making his stomach clench and turn over. He was tired; every inch of him ached and he just wanted to lie down. Could he not just lie down? Curl up and turn everything else off?

"…don't you…me?" Redhead was talking, but Hiro's hearing seemed to be going in and out, his mind spluttering as it couldn't manage to gather up enough intelligence in order to take in what was going on. Darkness splotched over his vision and when Hiro attempted to speak, he couldn't make out what he said. He tried to get his mind to focus— any other time and he would have relished in the state of delayed confusion. But he couldn't do it here; he had to get home. He had to get home before Aunt Cass started to miss him. Right?

He felt pressure around his wrist, felt his legs move on their own. The teenager tried to figure out what was going on, struggling to comprehend things as he attempted to clear his vision. There was the sound of muffled conversation, words playing on the edge of his consciousness that sounded garbled and messy. Each step that he took brought more blackness down over him, and he was left wandering in the direction that he was being pulled, limp and uncoordinated as he couldn't fend for himself.

And eventually that was all the young boy could fathom. Everything became blurred— a haze of confused scenes that didn't really click together in the way that they appeared. He picked up barely tangible ideas— that he was walking, that he was attempting to go down stairs though he could have sworn he had just walked up some, he felt like he was standing in one place but then he was sitting a moment later— even if he was under the impression he had been walking half a second ago. Voices managed to meet his ears, though what their words held, he'd no idea. He only got snatches of phrases, some of them making sense such as: "Want some?", yet there were others that just faded in and out instead, like: "I never…but…." Those were lost to the boy, and whatever muffled reply he seemed to give in response was just as clear to him.

He heard something like sounded like music, and he thought he could feel thick fabric underneath him— was it a couch? His head was spinning on an axis, and his stomach was seized with cramps that came in waves— the boy was growing sick and nauseas the longer that time stretched on. Yet, as time did elapse, he stopped trying so hard to sort through things, instead deciding to embrace the fact that such an effort was pointless and futile. This way he wouldn't have to look at what he was doing, he wouldn't have to suffer the preliminary struggles before this all took over. He could relax in the senselessness and feel unbridled. Incoherent and intoxicated, the teenager let go of his conscious and his morals— or at least the parts of them that he hadn't already lost.

"Okay okay okay!" The guy with the skinny jeans said, seated with the rest of the group in a circle on the floor. They had travelled to his apartment from the highway bridge, and after turning on some music and set up the needed materials, they were now deep into a typical drinking game. Hiro was seated close beside Redhead, not knowing anybody else. He sat slack against the couch, his eyes foggy and unfocused as they dragged themselves over to whoever was speaking. Redhead seemed amused by the way the boy was holding himself now, grinning over in his direction before turning away as well to face her friend. "Never have I ever…had sex in a public place more than twice." Skinny Jeans declared with the hint of a snicker.

A couple of the other people let loose laughs at this, as if there were some hidden punchline in the boy's words. A girl with her hair dyed purple leaned over to take a swig of her drink, rolling her eyes unabashedly at the chorus of 'Ooooh's that rose up once she did. Nearby, an older-looking gentleman also grabbed hold of his cup and took a drink. Hiro huffed into his knees, slightly disappointed. Through the turns, he'd only had the chance to take a few gulps from his own cup. And though once the chance came, he took far more than necessary for the game, and it took him about five tries to actually take hold of the cup, the fact that he was unable to take any drinks was more than frustrating at this point. Why couldn't he just drink the whole thing whenever he wanted to? He was so upset over the game and its stupid rules that he didn't even notice when Redhead leaned over to take a drink from her own plastic cup.

Skinny Jeans clucked his tongue mockingly at those who had confessed, his facade of disappointment slipping away quicker than it came as he dissolved into laughter instead. Then, shaking his head, he turned and looked over at Hiro, who was now staring vacantly into space. "Hey kid!" He called, rousing the boy from whatever mental reverie he had fallen into as the teenager straightened. The older boy gestured to him invitingly as the younger boy perked. "Take it away, Champ." He drawled, the boy having to make the slow connection that that meant it was his turn again.

He looked down fuzzily at his own cup, which was less than halfway empty now. His mind was sluggish and groggy— he couldn't seem to pin down one thought long enough to figure out what to say. It wasn't like there was a lack of things he could turn to— he was more than sure that he hadn't done half of what these people probably had. But his mind refused to work for a second, and so there was a small beat of silence that rested over those gathered as the teenager hesitated.

But after a moment, his dead eyes flashed with a little bit of life, and a sudden smile crawled its way over his face. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter that eventually wormed its way out of his mouth as the boy dissolved into a quick stupor of giggles. The group around him, unhinged themselves by the amount of alcohol that was being consumed in the course of this game, started up laughing as well, as if Hiro had said something humorous. Yet when the boy finally managed to speak through his sniggers, his voice conveyed the same kind of idea: that he had said something wildly hilarious.

"I've never been to college." Hiro laughed with a wide grin plastered on his face.

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It was freezing outside, but it was better than being in. As of right now anyway. Coming off from whatever had clouded his brain so thickly was difficult and slow-going, but he found that being out in the cold air was more soothing than anything else. Behind him, he could hear the muffled sounds of music and conversation— those inside wouldn't miss him. Still having difficulty in the simplest of thought processes, Hiro figured that he should be getting home. He looked down, wriggling his phone out from his pocket with mass difficulty and checking the time. It was one in the morning. He had missed three calls from Aunt Cass.

Normally such a detail would mortify him— if not for his own failure to answer, but in the idea that his guardian would be more than furious the next day. But now he didn't even bat an eye as he stuffed the small device away again. Oh well, he told himself wearily. She would just have to deal with it. Instead of at least attempting to call her back, the boy ducked his head down, cradling it in his hands as he gave a shaky sigh. He felt midway between keeling over from cramps and puking out the awful sensation in the pit of his stomach. But instead he just looked down at the ground instead, wondering how high up he was and whether or not he could jump from here and not be hurt.

His thoughts were cut short as another person came out onto the balcony— the purple-haired girl that had taken the drink before. She seemed surprised at the sight of the boy already standing there— which only affirmed his idea that nobody had missed him or even seen him go out of the room. In her hands, the older girl held a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and after a moment of hesitation, she turned and leaned up against the wall, shaking out one of the white sticks and lighting it deftly. She stuck it in her mouth, and in Hiro's selective thought process he just cursed the idea that the fresh air would have to leave.

Once the girl caught Hiro glancing her way, she looked up a bit, blinking a few times before asking: "Oh, did you want one?" The way she said this made it seem as though she had severely fouled up in her manners— like someone would start drinking water in desert and then turn to their dying friend to exclaim: "Oh, did you want some?" Hiro hesitated a moment, his brain wheezing like an exhausted motor as he forced it to make sense of the rather simplistic question. The girl, looking at him earnestly, leaned over and held out the box. "Go ahead, you can take one; I don't care. I've got more at home."

She was nice. She seemed really nice. Not only in the way that she spoke, but also how she looked at him in this weirdly sincere way. That was the only thought that crossed Hiro's mind as he accepted the offer, taking one of the sticks from her that had been shaken out of the cardboard container. He wasn't even thinking of what it would do to him— when he was in third grade he did an entire report on how bad smoking was and how it affected the human body. Its title was something along the lines of: "Don't Smoke It's a Joke" (his teacher had been so enthralled with the name, yet Hiro had gotten it from something he'd seen online). But then again, he had also been in the D.A.R.E. program right alongside Tadashi. That wasn't holding up so well either.

But she was nice. So he took the stick, and when she offered to light it for him, though his hands were still shaking, he held it out for her to ignite. Then became the complicated part, as Hiro didn't know what to do from here. He had watched television shows and especially movies where people smoked, and in concept it seemed effortless. But suddenly it seemed like there had to be more to it— it couldn't be that simple. Yet as he glanced at the girl who'd given him the light, she seemed to be almost careless in the way that she did it; and as Hiro's mind weighed the consequences, he figured that it wouldn't hurt to just try it and see what happened. Why not?

Immediately, just like what he had done with his first taste of alcohol, he doubled over and coughed, gagging on the ashy taste that immediately entered his lungs. His mind immediately kicked up into overdrive, the boy rushing with a hot surprise as he forced the smoke back out. The girl with purple hair straightened, looking confused for a second before realization dawned on her. She stuttered for a moment, looking surprised. "Oh no way— I thought you'd already smoked before! I wouldn't have…aw, man, if I would have known…." She glanced back into the room that she had left, through the sliding glass door at the people inside. "Here, just give it back to me, you don't have to—"

"I'm fine." Hiro wheezed, managing to straighten as he cut off his hacking. "No, I'm fine." He slurred, his words still mushed together. He put the stick back in between his lips, and he took another puff, which, unlike the girl whose exhale was relaxed, came back out in another rough cough. He winced slightly, feeling as if all the wetness in his mouth had been sucked out. The thing tasted awful, and it didn't get any better the longer he did it. It tasted like what Hiro could only assume the sidewalk would taste if he got down and licked it. But now that even more chemicals were entering his body, his mind was at least starting to kick back into gear a little bit faster than it would have otherwise.

"Hey…" The girl spoke up, and as he made the slow connection that it was him that was being addressed, Hiro looked up, trying to blink away the fuzziness that was clouding not only his vision, but his thought processes well. The girl looked awkward suddenly, and she paused as she looked the younger up and down. "…You look like a pretty sweet kid." She began, a small crease coming over Hiro's forehead at the odd change in pace. "I mean, I don't know much about you, but…maybe you should go home…? It's getting late, and I don't think someone like you should be here." Her words came slow, as if she were choosing them carefully. That, or Hiro was just taking longer in order to process them in the first place. "…Do you get what I'm trying to tell you?" She pressed when he didn't reply.

She was nice. So Hiro offered her a nod. This seemed to be the right thing to do as the girl's slight concern seemed to drop off from her face. She nodded as well, offering him a little smile before turning to look out to the street, taking another drag of her cigarette. She made it seem simplistic— why couldn't he accomplish it as easily as she did? The boy turned alongside her, looking down blankly at the street below. Predictably, it was pretty dead— it was technically tomorrow, after all. Hiro raised up the cigarette to his mouth and breathed in, forcing down the inhale of smoke now, and then forcing it out slowly, in a breath, not a cough or a wheeze. It was getting easier, he realized.

But as his mind woke up bit by bit, he remembered what he had been trying to forget. That voice started up in the back of his mind, scathing and disappointed as it slammed into his stomach once more. 'I can't believe you.' It growled. Despite Hiro having lost it in the swarm of alcohol, it seemed to have returned; and it was just as furious. 'You're so stupid. You're absolutely pathetic. If Tadashi were here, he would be so disappointed. How can you even call yourself his brother?' Hiro raised his free hand up, pressing the heel of his palm against one of his eyes as he grimaced deeply.

The girl perked at the sudden change, looking over and titling her head to the side. "You okay?"

He shook his head, his mind dragging up pictures of flames, of fire reaching all the way up to scrape the stars, of smoke replacing the moon as it filled up the sky. He looked down at the thing he held in between two fingers, at the miniature blaze that was fostering itself on the other end of the stick. And then, his hands trembling and his stomach curling backwards in disgust, Hiro placed it back in between his teeth and sucked back the longest drag he could take. It burned his throat on the way down, and his nose stung from the sheer amount, but the boy refused to stop until his lungs were unable to hold anything more. And when his lungs were filled with the acrid substance, Hiro held it back.

Rather than releasing it all in the exhale that was bottled in the back of his throat, Hiro gritted his teeth like prison bars. He held in the smoke and tar, feeling a searing hot start to burn his lungs. His eyes watered in the effort, and he ducked his head, grimacing at the more than just the suffocating sensation. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see Tadashi running into the burning Showcase, hear the explosion that ripped his brother away from him, and most of all now, he could feel the smoke that must have constricted his airway, must have snatched away his brother's breath and filled up his body until there was nothing left.

"Hey, whoa, what're you doing?" The girl said, pushing off of the wall and bending over to look at him in confusion. "You aren't supposed to hold it in— let it out!" Hiro only responded by bringing the cigarette stick back up to his lips, gasping out shortly before forcing down even more. A fresh wave of heat washed through him, and the child pictured himself being burned from the inside out, just like Tadashi had been. The thought caused the knife in his chest to twist sharply, a stifled noise of pain escaping him as he bit down hard on his tongue. Associating the noise with whatever the young teenager was doing, the purple-haired girl jerked forward quickly, reaching over and clapping a hand down hard on the small of the boy's back.

The force was unexpected and surprisingly violent. Hiro pitched forward, a gag being forced out from his throat and it turned into a hacking cough. He flinched, trembling as he hacked into the crook of his elbow. As he heaved and jerked forward, he lost hold of the cigarette stick, the small thing tumbling silently out of his grasp, abandoned onto the stone. He tried to catch it before it hit the ground, but by the time he recovered, wheezing and rasping in choked breaths, it was too late. "What were you thinking?" The girl with the dyed hair exclaimed. "That's not how you smoke, kid!"

'You're so pathetic. You're a miserable piece of crap, do you know that? Tadashi wouldn't have wanted this. If he were still here, he would hate you.'

He ducked his head down, shutting his eyes and feeling the distinct — regrettably familiar — sting of tears that started in his eyes and then spread down his face. The girl made a startled noise in the back of her throat, going on to try and say something. It must have been something like an apology, but Hiro wasn't listening, and whatever she was saying was cut off as the boy said flatly: "I have to go." His words were blunt and all but spit out, the boy's voice now rendered hoarse and scratchy from the smoke. The girl drew back, still looking bemused, however her feelings were the last thing on Hiro's clouded mind. He just shook his head, stumbling backwards and repeating: "I have to go."

"…Are you okay?" The girl asked, looking a little lost.

Hiro turned, shaking his head as he retraced his steps towards the room. He would go back in and slip out the door. He would go down some steps and get outside. From there it was a mystery. The young boy had no idea where he was— he didn't know how to get home. But anything was better than here— he just wanted to leave. He didn't necessarily want to return to the cafe, but he knew that the pills were in his room, under the pillowcase like he had left them. The thought sickened him. 'That's what you're going to do, then. Just make it worse.' The voice growled in his head. But it was all he could do. It was all that would help, and he couldn't manage to stop himself.

He stumbled back in from the balcony, the music sounding far too loud as it blasted against his eardrums. He staggered towards the door, his arms wrapped around his midsection as if he were holding himself together. Redhead had been leaning against the kitchen counter, drinking from the plastic cup in her hand, when she caught sight of the boy heading out. Standing upright and walking over a little sloppily herself, the girl gave out a loud shout as she neared the dark-haired teenager. "Hiro! 'Ve been wondering where you've run off to! Don't tell me you're leaving already! Stay! Have a little more fun— you could 'eally use it!" She snickered with this, as if she had made a joke. She swooped forward once she got close enough, wrapping an arm around Hiro's bony shoulders and bringing him uncomfortably close. Yet, limp as a doll, he didn't react to the pull as she squeezed him. "C'mon, pal. You gotta stay! Stay and party wi' me."

"No." Hiro rasped, suppressing another series of coughs before: "No, I have to go home."

Redhead didn't let go. "C'mon." She egged, swaying a little bit on her feet. "I promise that we could have some FUN."

Hollowly, he reiterated: "I have to go." And before he could give Redhead the chance to say anything else, he ducked away, wriggling out from the girl's grasp as he slouched out of the apartment. Hiro left behind the music and conversation, as well as the group of friends that seemed to be much happier than he was. They wouldn't even miss him with the way they were going, he told himself fuzzily. And as he shut the door behind him, he tried to get his buzzed mind to function, struggling to remember if he had walked up stairs or down a set, and if he had turned left from the bridge, or if he had turned right instead.

Redhead dropped her arm once Hiro left from its hold, the limb falling down to her side with a small slap as she frowned, looking oddly disappointed as she watched the teenager leave.

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The apartment was silent and nearly pitch-black. Given the time — it was around 1:30 now — it wasn't anything unusual. There was a small lump on the bed, burrowed deep under the blankets and curled up to resemble the shape of a small ball. The sound of snoring was coming up from the mound, and the light snuffles from under the sheets made up most of the excess noise in the room. That, and the small motorized fan that was whirring softly in the corner of the bedroom. However, as uninvited and unprovoked as a snowball hitting the back of your neck in the middle of summer, there was a sudden burst of noise.

A series of beeps and music notes came from the bedside table, effectively slicing through the peace that had settled over the bedroom like a warm knife would through butter. The form underneath the covers spasmed, the blankets thrown up and off of the person as they shot into an upright position. Black hair, though short and cropped up to the ears, was wild and flyaway, the person sloppily brushing it out of their face as they looked with squinted eyes towards the dresser nearest them. Sure enough their phone was ringing wildly, the caller ID not helping douse the anger and irritation that was slowly building inside of the person with the unwanted disturbance. Growling in the back of their throat, the person jerked forward, snatching the phone up from the bedside table a little violently and all but stabbing the 'Answer' button.

At once they hissed into the receiver, not even pausing to wait for the other to say 'Hello.' "What on earth do you want, Wasabi?" GoGo growled through clenched teeth, bringing the device away from her ear only to check the time before snapping: "It is 1:35; unless you called me because the world is currently coming to an end, then I suggest you hang up and let me go back to sleep." In the back of her mind, the girl made a solemn vow to herself that if Wasabi was just calling to tell her that the painting in his bathroom was two centimeters off-scale and he needed help in fixing it again, she was going to throw her phone against the wall.

"I called him again." Wasabi sounded wide-awake considering the time, yet as the words met the raven-haired girl's ear, she too lost some of the grogginess that was holding her down. Instead she sighed through her nose, curling her knees in so that they were pressed to her chest as she sat up a little straighter. "Just now, I called him and he didn't answer. Just like he hasn't been answering me for weeks. I don't know what to do, GoGo; I'm seriously starting to get worried now."

She reached up, rubbing at her forehead and sighing. "You are aware of the fact that it is past midnight, right?" She asked softly, the words coming out in a single exhale. She paused briefly, pursing her lips before shaking her head. "He might just be sleeping, Wasabi. And you know how he's been. Ever since Tadashi…" The girl glanced down, rubbing her blanket in between her thumb and forefinger as a small frown crossed over her face. "Ever since the Showcase he's been upset. And you can't really blame him— if he cared as much for Tadashi and Tadashi did for him…it's gotta be pretty awful for him."

Sadly, she recalled how much her old friend used to rant and rave about his little brother. He always talked about Hiro with that dorky little grin on his face— when he wasn't groaning over how much the boy went out to waste his time bot fighting. It had almost gotten annoying sometimes— the way that Tadashi would dole out stories ranging from the last weekend to all the way to five or six years ago. Stories like how when it was Hiro's sixth Christmas, the boy had asked for Tadashi to go ice skating, and as soon as the kid stepped foot on the ice, he fell flat on his face, started crying, and quit. Or how Hiro had cried when Tadashi left for his first sleepover and had to be held back by a rather exasperated Aunt Cass to keep him from racing after his older brother. Tadashi's eyes would always get soft and affectionate when he spoke about his brother…GoGo couldn't imagine what Hiro must be feeling.

"He's not sleeping through my calls, GoGo, the phone rang three times before it cut me off. He declined it." Wasabi objected, sounding strained. "I mean— maybe he was just trying to sleep and wanted his phone to stop going off, but that last time I found him it was later than this! What if he's…." His words trailed off for a moment and a frown started to hang over GoGo's face as she sobered. Wasabi tried again. "Of course, I don't know what he's doing, but to be honest that just makes it worse. All I know that for the past two weeks straight he's either declined my calls by the second ring, or he just hasn't picked up at all."

"He hasn't answered any of our emails, either." The girl pointed out, though she was obviously hesitant as she spoke. She paused, rubbing at her eyes before clearing her throat and moving on. "So you want to do something about it?" She asked. Two weeks ago, Wasabi had made a point to gather everyone together, confused and somewhat frantic as he told the story of how the night before, he had found Hiro collapsed and senseless in an alleyway downtown. "I admit— it isn't the most relaxing situation to be in."

It was as if her friend had been waiting for her to say this. "Yeah. Yeah we should." He agreed quickly.

GoGo raised her eyebrows, waiting expectantly for the other to launch into some kind of plan of action that he'd already formulated. But when the other end was just as silent, she heaved yet another huff of frustration. "Okay, how about this?" She asked. "Tomorrow can get the others together— Honey Lemon is always anxious to cook dinner for us, so maybe we can go there sometime tomorrow night. If they agree that something should be done, then we can go down to his house after school on Monday."

There was a beat of silence, before: "And then what?"

"I don't know." GoGo mumbled, her brain still half-asleep as it hindered her thinking process. "We can check to see if Hiro is there, and if he is then we can try and see if we can talk to him. If he isn't, then we can try to talk to Aunt Cass. We can tell her that we haven't seen Hiro in months and that we're starting to get worried about him. The worst that could happen is she tells us not to worry so much, right? Maybe we can find some answers that way. Or at least know that nothing is wrong." Still, Wasabi didn't answer, and GoGo tried again. "You know I'm just as worried as you are about him." She elaborated. "But we have to be careful about how we do this, you know? If we make a mistake we could end up doing more harm than good."

"I guess so." Wasabi said, sounding more resigned than he was satisfied. But then he seemed to recover a little bit, as if he realized the same thing that GoGo had: that really this was the best thing that they could do. Mainly because it was the only thing they had to go off of. "Yeah, we can do that. Should I call the rest of them now?" He asked, sounding as eager as if he were already dialing the numbers for their friends.

GoGo scowled, rolling her eyes as she glanced over at the clock. "How about we wait until after the sun comes up?" She growled.

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"…Hey….hey are you awake?" The room had been silent and peaceful, up until the small voice broke the tranquility with a small whisper. The person who had piped up was no bigger than a six-year-old, crouched on the ground and oddly wide-awake as they peered with round eyes into the dark. They were knelt down, their chin rested on the edge of a bed, in which there was a rumpled mess of blankets shielding someone from view. Biting on their lower lip, the little figure reached over to poke the top of the sheets, trying again, a little bit louder now. "Wake up!" They chirped in a slightly raised whisper. "Tadashi, wake up!"

There was a small moan, a grumble of irritation before the blankets were pulled back just a little bit. In the gloom of the bedroom, the little boy could see his older brother start to wake up, just the smallest hint coming in the form of gleaming eyes. Though squinted and fuzzy, as soon as the little boy realized that the other was awake, he was launching forward. "We have to go downstairs." He demanded, looking anxious as he glanced over his shoulder towards the staircase. "We have to go downstairs and make cookies!"

"Wha—" There was a series of muffled confusion before the older of the two propped up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with sleep as they looked over at the clock. "Hiro, do you have any idea what time it is? Why do always wake me up like this? Just because it says A.M. on the clock doesn't mean it's time to wake up." There was a small pause in which the boy sighed tiredly. "Or more importantly, that you can wake other people up."

Hiro scrambled up to his feet, already shaking his head before his older brother could finish. "I know exactly what time it is." He said flatly, an odd intensity to his voice as he pushed. "It is exactly 4:45 A.M. on Christmas morning and we haven't put out the cookies yet!" Apparently the older of the two was supposed to have a reaction similar to this— as if the world were on its final stretch of days. Because when his words were only followed up with silence and not frantic screaming, the six-year-old repeated the phrase, louder this time, into almost a yell. "It is exactly 4:45 A.M. on Christmas morning and we haven't put out the cookies yet! We have to put out cookies for Santa or he'll skip our house! Is that what you want, Tadashi?"

"Hiro, calm down." Tadashi sighed, ever patient as he sat up fully in his bed. "We put out a pie for Santa, don't you remember? Aunt Cass chose out one of the bakery— he won't mind what he eats. It's the thought that counts." He stifled a yawn before reaching over and giving a small pat on his baby brother's shoulder, who still looked wildly incredulous at the idea that his older brother wasn't grasping the concept he had brought to him. "You need to go back to bed, okay? Santa will skip our house if he sees that not everyone is asleep."

"But he needs cookies." Hiro pushed, stubborn as he wilted. The little boy's lower lip puckered out into a pout and it was clear how crestfallen he became as his pleas were rejected. "That's the entire point of Christmas. You gotta leave cookies out for Santa— they're his favorite. It doesn't say anywhere that he likes pies." The little boy flopped down onto the bed, ignoring Tadashi's repeated sigh of frustration as he looked up with an expression that demanded pity. "…We gotta make cookies, Tadashi." He whined. "We just have to make them. And we have to do it before Santa gets here." The elder gave a whine himself, deep in the back of his throat as he reached up to scrub at his face. And when he dropped his arms to look down at Hiro, he wore an appearance that screamed: 'I-really-wish-you-wouldn't-do-this-to-me.'

However when Hiro's expression only became more pleading, the older brother gave in. "Fine." He relented, the singular word barely escaping his mouth before the little one shot up to his feet, a beam coming over his face and lighting up the room a little bit more as he reached over and grabbed his brother's hand, pulling and yanking as he 'helped' him to his feet. And Tadashi did eventually get up, shepherded by his little brother who raced down the steps, displaying far more energy than anybody should have this early in the morning.

Aunt Cass was still asleep, and it was probably better to keep it that way. Tadashi, who had turned thirteen this year, was wiser than his baby brother and was fully aware of how much effort and work that Aunt Cass had put into Christmas. He'd realized the truth about Santa a long time ago, yet in no way did that mean that he was showing that outright. After all, Hiro still got that exhilarated smile on his face whenever the man in the big red suit was brought up— he wasn't about to change that at all. And so that must have been why, even when Hiro woke him up around five in the morning and dragged him in a stupor downstairs to rip out a baking sheet and a package of cookie dough, he only smiled and helped accordingly.

They turned on the light in the kitchen only halfway; Tadashi was trying his best to make it so that Aunt Cass wouldn't wake up. His aunt mentioned something along the lines of getting up around six to arrange the presents under the tree. She had asked Tadashi if he would keep his little brother inside of their room until then. Yet so far, looking over towards the living room, Aunt Cass hadn't gotten up yet to lay out the presents. So, technically, as long as Tadashi took Hiro back upstairs somewhere around 5:30, he was still doing the job given to him.

Hiro begged to work the oven, but Tadashi took the job himself. "You're not old enough to use the oven." He'd said. "And you're too short." So the thirteen-year-old took charge of the appliance, picking up the littler one once he set the oven to preheat and placing him down on the kitchen counter so that he could reach the cookie sheet. And together the two arranged the small balls of dough, spacing them out so that when they cooked they wouldn't mold together. As Hiro pulled apart bits of dough and placed them down on the pan, Tadashi offered a tired grin. "So…I never knew you cared this much. I know you liked Christmas, but I didn't know you liked it enough to get up at five in the morning."

"I was up at three, actually." The little boy corrected cheekily, popping a ball of dough into his mouth. "It took me a while to decide to get you up. And then you wouldn't budge— it took me ages to get you to stop sleeping."

"Don't eat raw cookie dough, Hiro." Tadashi chastised in response. "You'll get salmonella."

"It's like less than one percent of all eggs that contain salmonella." The boy retorted, popping another one into his mouth. "Besides— other people do it; it's fine."

Tadashi scoffed, taking what was left of the cookie dough and wrapping it back up to put into the freezer again. They had already made more than enough— they didn't have to waste the whole package. "And what if that cookie dough that you just ate was part of that less than one percent?" He questioned fairly, closing the refrigerator door just as the oven beeped, signaling that it was done preparing. "Just because everyone else does it doesn't mean you have to." He coached, only grinning when Hiro responded by rolling his eyes. "Next time everyone decides to jump off the nearest bridge, remind me to give you a parachute."

And once the cookies were in, once the oven was set, Hiro planted himself nearly in front of the baking goods, watching intently and checking the clock every so often as well. The cookies had to bake for 14 minutes, and it was turning 5:00 now. Tadashi monitored the time as well from where he stood— though his motives were more based on when Hiro would have to go back to sleep. And in between glances, the teenager was busying himself with getting out a mug for the milk and a plate for the cookies. The traditional things that Tadashi would have been happy replacing with Aunt Cass' pie. But Hiro would not have been happy — he would not have gone back to sleep, either — so Tadashi didn't mind making the switch.

Hiro piped up where he sat, his forehead creased as he watched the cookies slowly grow in size. "Why does it have to take so long?" He demanded hotly, frustrated as he looked to the clock over and over. "This is taking forever." The little child groaned, a tad dramatic.

Tadashi only smiled affectionately. "You have to give things time." He answered.

"Why?" Hiro demanded, getting up to his feet — not making much of a height difference at all — and pointing up to the differing temperature knobs on the oven. "You could just make it hotter and cook it for less time. Then it'll be over quicker. We wouldn't have to wait so long." He seemed proud of himself for the analysis, and Tadashi, ever supportive, tried not to squash the emotion.

His little brother might have a better knack for book smarts than most, — he had already skipped Kindergarten, and his first grade teacher was starting to ask Aunt Cass whether or not he could do the same with second grade — but he lacked the skills needed in order to be street smart. Or that is, he didn't have the same applicable knowledge he did for tests as he did for real life. Hiro let his heart rule over his head for the majority of the time, and although that was what most parents told their kids — "Listen to your heart, honey" — that was not the case in this situation. Hiro tended to be on the rash side of things, and this specific instance was only a small example of what he had grown to be. So Tadashi balanced his chin in the palm of his hand, offering him that patient smile he wished would rub off on his younger brother.

"You just have to be patient." He coached. "Rome wasn't built in a day, little brother."

"Rome wasn't made of flour and sugar, either." Hiro huffed, sitting back down with a heavy thud.

"If you turned up the heat, then they wouldn't taste as good later." The teenager replied fairly, tilting his head to the side as he said this. "Sure, it would go by faster, but you would just be left with a bunch of burned cookies. Wouldn't you rather wait and end up with good cookies than rushing through it and ending up with bad ones?"

Hiro paused, as if he were considering the theory, but then he just slouched further down against the ground, blowing out his cheeks and staring dully over into the screen of the oven. "Yeah; but it's taking too long." He repeated in a huff.

Tadashi pursed his lips. Leaned back slightly. Cleared his throat. Offered that same warm grin. "Sometimes the thing that takes the longest time to get turns out to be the best, baby brother." He answered.

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His steps were mere shuffles, inaudible scrapes against the ground as he staggered wearily down the street. Hiro's hood was up against the freezing cold, his head hung down low, while every once and a while, a small noise of pain and discomfort managed to escape from his throat. The boy's head was swimming, and his stomach was twisted into horrible knots that seemed to get worse with each new step. A dark cloud hung over the teenager, a twisted expression of misery etched deep into his features. Every so often he would trip over his own feet, pitching forward and stumbling as he fell once or twice. He was forced to pick himself up each time, a hand going down to wrap tightly around his stomach in the attempt to curb the pain from knotting even more.

He had no idea where he was going. In his warped mindset he could only trust his feet, which were rendered just as, if not even more, inept. He walked for what seemed like ages— the real elapse of time coming as a mystery to the boy. As he walked he could have sworn that he felt small, pulsing vibrations from his pocket. His phone? Was his phone was ringing? He might have just let it ring out. He might have declined the call. But he might have answered it too. Hiro didn't know; he couldn't tell his thoughts from reality at this point. He had started to come out of his drunken reverie before, but now his physical exhaustion was starting to slow whatever progress he'd made before, if not reversing some part of it. The boy hadn't slept in a long time; now he was left feeling run-down and almost delirious. Limp and stricken, the boy pushed on, knowing that he had to be at least close by now.

His bagged eyes slid shut, the boy's head ducked as his lips moved unconsciously, unclear words playing on the tip of his tongue that never managed to pierce through the frosty air. 'Sometimes the thing…the thing that takes the…longest time to…to get turns up to…turns out to be…' He looked up, the effort of raising his head far greater than it should have been. And sure enough, he found that he recognized this street. If it hadn't been for the fact that he had grown up here, had memorized every brick, had run along these sidewalks, had spent days staring out of these windows, he would have kept going. But instinct led the battered boy onward, and he rounded the building of the cafe to go in through the back door. Once again— it had been left unlocked for him.

It took the boy a surplus of more than ten seconds to conquer the first step once he got inside. And every other after was only worse. He stumbled and staggered, one hand on the railing and the other holding himself together. But eventually he scaled the first set, and then moved on to the second, managing to finally make it up into his darkened room. But rather than going for his bed, either to collapse on top of it and fall asleep or to grab the pills that were underneath his pillow, he bypassed the space entirely. Instead he all but limped to the other end of the bedroom, falling down on his brother's bed.

Bleary, unfocused eyes managed to zero in on the thing that was sitting in front of his nose, as if it were waiting for him. The boy wriggled out his arms from underneath his stomach, twisting over and grabbing Tadashi's hat, sliding his arms back and pulling the thing close to his chest. Hiro curled forward, his eyes shut tightly as he froze there for a few minutes, merely hugging the material tightly into himself, the stabbing sensation seated in his stomach feeling as though someone had poured disinfectant on the open wound. It was an old saying — or maybe more of a philosophy — that great troubles weren't given to those who could not withstand them. That those riddled with challenges or obstacles had been destined for them, because they were more than strong or capable enough.

But that wasn't true. It couldn't be. Or if it was, it just meant that Hiro was the odd person out— the one that, among those braced under the weight of their burdens, was left crumbling under the pressure. Did that make him weak? Tadashi hadn't been weak— if Tadashi were here, he would be able to handle this. Aunt Cass wouldn't be upset; she wouldn't be walking around the cafe as if the floor was made of glass. If only Tadashi hadn't died…if Hiro had died in that fire in place of him…things would be so much better…

The thought caused his stomach to twist. Abruptly, keeping hold of Tadashi's hat in his shaking hands, the boy heaved himself up to his feet, a sickened feeling washing over him head to toe as he stumbled down the stairs in a haze. Quickly he blundered through the living room, finding the bathroom door and ripping it open violently. The teenager threw open the seat of toilet a millisecond before he hunched forward, the sickening sensation rising up from his stomach and out from his body. The young boy heaved, heat rushing through him as he curled forward in pain.

It dragged on forever. Once the waves subsided and once his stomach started to unclench, the boy would gag until it all picked up again. The young teenager vomited until he could not possibly focus on anything else. Until he could not hear the voice in the back of his mind telling him of his mistakes. Until he could not see the memory of his brother smiling kindly his way. Until he could not remember the way he had almost exploded the end of that stupid fist bump back underneath the bridge. Until everything inside of him — the parts that caused Aunt Cass to be so upset, the parts that had taken the cigarette with no hesitation, the parts that he despised but had managed to take up every inch of his being anyway — had been rejected and repulsed. He puked until he was burning from head to toe, and that was the only thing he could concentrate on.

By the time he was finished — by the time he could not possibly force out anything more — Hiro was trembling violently, disoriented and covered with a light sheen of sweat. Discombobulated and confused, whatever thoughts managed to enter his mind were awkward and almost contradictory. He needed to flush away the evidence. But his body was too tired; it was shutting down— moving right now seemed as possible as pushing a mountain. He needed to change his clothes, or at least something like that— he was more than sure that the stench of alcohol, smoke, and now bile was stuck to him like glue. But the longer he sat there, staring blankly ahead and gripping Tadashi's hat close to him still, the more that the ill heat festered inside of him, the more unbearable it became, and the more he couldn't seem to breathe under its scorching weight.

Movements stiff and robotic, Hiro turned away from the toilet to the shower. And, still shaking violently, forced himself up to his feet and used one free hand to reach over and grab at the shower handle. Limply he yanked the knob out into place, slipping in the process and falling forward. Too late he tried to catch himself, falling with a noisy slam into the tub and hitting his head against the floor. As he had slipped, he twisted the shower controls sharply, all the way to the right. And as he collapsed into a pile on the bottom of the tub, he immediately spasmed as a sheet of ice-cold water slammed down onto him.

It was as if all of his breath had been stolen from him upon contact. In reaction to the sudden swamp of cold, every single inch of the boy locked into place, paralyzed underneath the rain. He knew that he should scramble away, get out of the water's pointed range before he got hypothermia or something. But he couldn't get himself to move. His head pounded, keeping him in place. The pulsing injury wrapped him in a stabbing pain that centered itself in his forehead, making him feel as if he were going to vomit again, though he knew for a fact that he had nothing left to give. And as the water seeped quickly though the layers of his clothes, he felt as if a million little needles were pricking at his skin. Miniature syringes all over his body. Vaccinations for a sickness that could not be cured.

Hiro's head drooped down, his eyes sliding shut. The boy's limp frame was seized with shivers and spams as the ice-cold water streamed down relentlessly on him, his clothes acting as sponges that soaked up the water and made it easier for the cold claws to clamp down over his skin. Feeling escaped his toes, and his fingers become unable to feel the fabric of Tadashi's hat in their grip. He remained like that for countless minutes, prostrate on the floor as he lay limp, waiting as one by one, each of his senses were stripped away, taken with the water and flushed down the drain. He should have been scared; he should have at least attempted to get out. But he wasn't; he just…waited.

In the back of his mind, he thought that he could hear footsteps coming closer from the hallway. Thought he heard the door's slight creak as it opened. And then he was absolutely certain in what he felt next. The hands on his shoulders, twisting his body around forcibly so that he was on his back rather than his stomach. The frantic shouting of…of something…his name? Yes, it must have been his name. He tried to react to it, open his eyes and see what was going on. But he couldn't find the will— instead remaining numb as shouted pleas bounced against deaf eardrums.

The water was shut off, the freezing weights that slammed against Hiro and took away his breath coming to a sudden halt. There was still the faint sound of shouting, much too loud against the peaceful quiet he had experienced before. But he couldn't find irritation in the idea. Because as he lay against the ground, shaking and convulsing in the sensation that the water had left the boy wrapped in…he was freezing. The realization was simple and obvious. It shouldn't have meant anything. But the heat that had encased Hiro, the burning that he had kept in his lungs, the scorching sense of shame he had felt, the searing waves that had rushed through him when he was crouched on the ground…it was gone.

He was not burning. He was not charred or singed. He was not suffering under the weight.

Because now he was freezing.

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When his senses returned, little by little, Hiro made the slow connection that he was in his own bed. He was not wearing his street clothes— rather he was encompassed by the softer material of pajamas. The blankets had been tucked up to his chin, and as he gathered each piece of evidence, he also realized that he was curled up into a compact ball, a shiver wracking his body every so often. As the fact dawned over him slowly he bunched up a bit tighter to conserve warmth, and as if his slight movement had set off an alarm, there was immediately a voice.

"What happened."

It held finality to it. It was not a question of any sort.

Opening his eyes, Hiro saw that he was on his left side, facing towards Tadashi's end of the room. He had his back to whoever he was speaking, though he could not mistake their name. Refusing to move, Hiro ducked away instead, keeping his lips tightly compressed as he did not utter a sound in reply. However the voice only repeated itself. "What happened." A large expanse of silence, Hiro not speaking a phrase. "Hiro, what happened last night?" The voice was strained now that it was forced to reiterate herself over and over again.

Still, nothing.

Aunt Cass ducked her head, squeezing her eyes shut briefly as she took in a shuddering breath. "Do you know how awful that was?" She questioned finally, her voice unnaturally worn as she looked at her nephew's form underneath the blankets. Hiro didn't react. So, taking in a short staccato of an inhale, she went on with difficulty. "I get up at who knows what time…hearing the shower running…and I go in to see you fully dressed under freezing water…struggling to breathe right! I just…what am I supposed to do? I turned the water off, I tried to get you to reply to me, but you were just so…you didn't wake up and I thought…"

There was a punctured sound then, as if Aunt Cass choked and hadn't been able to finish her words properly. Hiro paused for the briefest of seconds, merely staring emptily at the wall opposite of him. But then he rolled over, twisting onto his other side and turning his gaze over to Aunt Cass over the lip of the comforter. Worried, teary eyes, met desolate, blank ones, and Cass bit down on her lower lip, looking as if she was struggling to hold back a sob. But to her credit, she just reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, managing to clear the lump in her throat so that could speak clearly. "…Honey, I just can't help you unless you tell me what's wrong… you know?"

Still, Hiro's only response was so stare half-lidded her way.

"…Is it just me?" Cass asked hesitantly. "…Do you not want to talk to me?"

This time there was an answer. Yet as Hiro spoke, he even managed to surprise himself with how hollow and dead his voice sounded. "Nothing's wrong." He mumbled softly.

Aunt Cass winced, looking down at her hands which were wringing in front of her. She leveled off another deep inhale before pressing as she closed her eyes in a grimace. "I'm going to set up an appointment for you. With someone. To talk to them." She blurted out, not mistaking the fact that Hiro sat up quickly at this. "This way you can find help somewhere, because I have no idea how to help you, honey, and that's all I want to do." She looked up, her eyes glazed over in the light that was coming through the window. "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but it's all I can think of. I just want you to go and talk to someone…"

"There's nothing to talk about." Hiro snapped, his voice suddenly turning acidic. Cass opened her mouth to say something, but Hiro cut her off before she could. "I'm not talking to anyone." He said, allowing no room for objection. His voice was sharp and cutting— he could literally see it cut Aunt Cass in half as his guardian straightened. He was not aware of which was worse: the fact that he had reverted so easily and quickly into this tone, or that it did not faze him to see how much Aunt Cass wilted in the face of it. "I'm absolutely fine. So leave me alone."

Cass straightened, resembling a two-wheeled car struggling to finish its race. "Hiro, you need to get help from someone." She pleaded, the worry causing her words to lack firm stance. "If not from me, then—"

"I'm not talking to anybody!" Hiro yelled suddenly. Aunt Cass bit her words back, her eyes widening to be ten times their normal size at the biting shout. She took a small step backwards, looking unsure as she started to open her mouth again. "If you want to waste your money, then go ahead, but I'm not going to say a word to anyone! I don't need help!" Once again, his aunt tried to restate herself, but the effort was more than pointless. "I just want to be alone! You're always hanging over me!" This was not the issue. It wasn't even anywhere close. But once Hiro began, he could not stop, taking all his frustration and hurt and redirecting it to the woman standing three feet away from him. "Can't you see that you're— that you're suffocating me!? You're always asking me where I've been or what I'm doing or if I'm signing up for college! Just stop! I can't take it anymore, okay!? Is that what you wanted to hear!? Are you satisfied now!? Will you leave me alone!?"

There was silence. Aunt Cass stared at her nephew as if she were just meeting him, as if the person glaring hotly at her was someone she had never seen before a day in her life. The brunette's jaw was slack, and there was a small trail of water marking its way down her face. Hurriedly, she reached up to wipe away the tear, coughing in the back of her throat and taking in a few shaking breaths before managing to get out words. And even then they flimsy and weak— as stable as a sheet of paper. "…I just…I just worry about you." She murmured softly, her words barely a whisper.

"Then stop!" Hiro blustered, locking his jaw backwards as he yanked his comforter back over his head, turning to put his back to her. He curled close to himself once again and shut his eyes tightly. "Just stop." He mumbled. "If you really want to help me then you'll leave me alone. You'll stop bugging me."

"…okay." Came the quiet response. Yet again, there was that suffocating blanket of quiet. But then Aunt Cass seemed to turn and leave, a set of footsteps fading down the stairs as Hiro listened intently. And once it became clear that she had gone, and that he was the only one left, he turned and glanced back to the entryway of the room, just the smallest hint of regret lingering in his eyes. But he turned away again, refusing to call out and bring Aunt Cass back. That was the last thing he wanted.

Upon turning back, he caught sight of something on his bedside table: Tadashi's hat. It must have been put there by Aunt Cass. The teenager leaned over, grabbing the cap and realizing that it was still damp from last night. He must have taken it into the shower with him— he honestly couldn't remember if he had left it on the ground or if he had kept it. Turning over onto his side, Hiro stared down at the thing for a few long minutes, feeling his throat swell shut and his eyes start to burn with heat that was openly contradictory to his body temperature.

Hiro curled away from everything else, wishing that the world could disappear with the simple action of covering his head with his blanket. The boy shut his eyes, feeling his own tears overflow and spill down the sides of his face as he clung to the scrap of material that his brother had used to wear nearly every day. If Hiro had died instead of Tadashi, things would be better. If Hiro had died, Aunt Cass wouldn't be crying right now. If Hiro had died, Tadashi would still be with his friends, the whole group laughing as if nothing was wrong, as if his not being there hadn't changed a thing. Because it wouldn't have. If Hiro had died, his brother would still be attending school and accomplishing more for people than Hiro ever could manage in any number of lifetimes.

And like a small little mantra in his head it started to cycle:

Why couldn't I have run into that building?

Why couldn't I have been the one to be ripped apart?

Why couldn't I have died instead?

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A/N: Merry Christmas! Day after, but it's always the thought that counts. For Christmas I've recently acquired a laptop, so the rate of updates can certainly increase. But I think this time before I update I'll wait for more reviews. It takes a lot of work in order to get out chapters this length, and there's been a lack of feedback in response! I want to hear what you guys think about this work and so far I haven't had much at all to go off of!

So the more reviews I get the faster that I'll update! And hopefully I'll be back sooner rather than later! :)


	5. Chapter 5

"…So…overall…how would you describe your mood today, Hiro?"

The room was just one big combination of varying shades of blue. Nearly floor to ceiling, the expanse was colored in the hue. The couch that the despondent teenager slouched in was colored a light baby blue, the matching pillows arranged behind him a much darker. The woman that was speaking was seated in a small armchair that was colored the exact same way— even the small pillow behind her matched the ensemble to a tee. The walls were the color of the ocean on a brightly-lit day; the rug nearer to the entrance of the room the color that the sky would be— if not for the rain and storms that have ravaged the city lately. Subconsciously, Hiro found himself holding his breath, as if he were trapped underneath water, unable to breathe.

The woman sitting across from him gazed at the young boy with a sense of deep concern. Hiro's chin was balanced on the palm of his hand, the boy silent as he stared off to the side, towards one of the pictures that hung on the wall. It was a framed picture of a collection of round rocks— of pebbles. It seemed pointless, he thought. Why would anybody actually hand over money for something as stupid as a picture of rocks that could easily be found by walking three feet out from your house? Once Hiro did not reply to the proposed question, the woman looked down at the clipboard she held, picking up the pen from her lap and starting to write something down in quick scrawls.

Usually when it came to therapists or physiatrists, there would be an organized schedule. One would be allowed visits every Wednesday and Sunday or something along those lines, remaining there for a maximum of two hours to talk about what had happened to them recently in their life, or what their next origin of 'concern' was. Once Aunt Cass had broached the topic of finding someone for him to speak to, that was all that Hiro had been expecting— a collection of hours in his week that he could stare through. Sure, it would be torture; but at least it would be minimal.

However that was not the course of action that Aunt Cass had decided to take. The woman, fully unnerved after the scene in the bathroom Saturday night, had found an alternative. An alternative that led to Hiro spending the majority of his Sunday here in this office, sickened by the overabundance of blue and still fuming from the fight that morning with his guardian. He'd spent nearly the entirety of the day there, the therapist worming out reluctant replies, if any, from the fourteen-year-old. 'It won't be like this every time.' The blonde doctor had assured him swiftly. 'Just until I get to know you a little bit more.' But that still didn't save the boy from being toted down here a second time as soon as he opened his eyes this morning. It didn't even stop Aunt Cass when he pointed out in the car, mostly out of frustration, that it was a weekday— Monday. That she would be missing the early-to-work rush of people trying to shovel in their breakfast before heading off to work. His guardian just waved off the idea, persisting instead to take the trip down here for the second time in a row.

At the sound of that pen scratching down against paper, Hiro twisted around, his train of thought snapping in a half as his eyes flickered over to train onto the woman. He had no idea what she was writing. He had no idea what she'd been writing for the past two hours. He had no idea what she had been writing for the past two days, to be frank. It had to be just an accumulation of the same notes: 'Doesn't reply.' 'Very quiet again.' 'Still nothing.' He had probably said a handful of words to this woman, despite the sheer amount of hours he had been forced to partake on this stupid couch. Perhaps in the back of his mind Hiro hoped that if he didn't say a word, if he didn't show any sign of cooperation, Aunt Cass would stop waking him up early like she had these past forty-eight hours, a pained smile stretched over her face in that unnatural way as she asked him to get up and to get dressed.

But such a thing was not the case. He still was forced out of bed. He was still loaded into the car. He was still required to undertake the silent, thirty minute drive it took to get down to the therapist's office, and he was still forced to sit down in the middle of this huge expanse of blue for what seemed like ages. Aunt Cass had the choice to go back and run the bakery while he was here— he was certainly trapped in the room long enough for her to go back and do just that. However, his guardian never did. The woman, now rendered drawn and tired, always refused to leave, staying instead out in the waiting room and sitting just as long as Hiro did as she waited for her nephew to step out through the door. The therapist had commented on this multiple times, obviously sympathetic to the caring relative. But, just as with the rest of her attempts at 'conversation', Hiro did not acknowledge it much.

However, as the dark-haired boy turned to look her way, the therapist — her name was listed in the Phone Book as Doctor Stapleton — smiled brightly, as if encouraged by the minimal eye contact. "Do you have a specific word in mind?" She pressed, elaborating her question from before as she tilted her head to the side. Then, probably under the impression that a few jokes would be enough to open up the young boy, she grinned as she asked: "Bored?" When Hiro only blinked slowly, she pursed her lips before going on. "Tired? You look a little tired, Hiro; did you sleep at all since our last visit?"

This got a response. But probably not the one Stapleton had been looking for. "No; not really." He murmured, reserved as he turned to resume his staring at the stupid portrait of rocks. It had been more than two hours and she was still pestering him. He could be doing something else right now— he could be doing a million other things rather than just sitting here pointlessly. At the jittery thought, Hiro's legs began to bounce erratically, the young teenager wincing a little bit as he smoothed his hands down the legs of his jeans. The room was too small— the walls were starting to press inward on him bit by slow bit. He just wanted out. He wanted to go home. He wanted to delve under his pillow for his pills or open up the chest at the bottom of his bed for one of the glass bottles stashed there. He wanted something that would help him stop feeling like he was going to split apart at the seams.

Observing the pent-up behavior with a trained eye, Doctor Stapleton slowly cleared her throat, looking back down in order to scribble out even more notes. "Hiro, you've come here a total of two visits now, and you've stayed for quite a long time in order for us to become acquainted." Was that the word she was going to use? "And with the concerning situation that your aunt described to me, you've stayed here much longer than any of my other patients have. And yet I don't feel as if we've made much progress at all; do you feel the same way?" She asked, blue eyes narrowing as the question hung in the air between them. Hiro turned once again at this, perking slightly. Was this the beginning of an order to leave? A dismissal that finally came out as a result of his refusal to cooperate? His mouth nearly ran dry at the prospect of being able to leave and never come back. At being able to get out of this suffocating room and out from under the intrusive gaze of this woman. So, hesitantly, the teenager offered a subtle nod of agreement.

Stapleton returned the gesture, looking somewhat satisfied. "I've asked you many things, but you must be a very quiet boy— I've been talking enough for the both of us since this all started." He kept silent. When could he leave? "But when I asked your aunt after our last talk if you've always been this reserved, she said no; that usually you're very cheery and talkative. That before this, you would nearly always have something to say. And that when you weren't talking, you at least had a smile on your face." There was a long lapse of silence, and the therapist leaned forward, locking her fingers together and narrowing her eyes as she studied him. It was as if he was pinned down, held in place by a sheet of glass underneath a microscope. A defective test subject that had to be surveyed in order to find the error in its system, the mistake in which every other one originated. "…Now, I haven't seen even the smallest hint of a smile from you." The blonde woman went on slowly. "Or an attempt at conversation even. …And I find that a little sad."

Hiro started blandly her way, tight-lipped.

Stapleton sighed softly through her nose before hedging forward. "Do you have any idea what could make you happy?" She prodded further. "Do you know what could make you more content? …Satisfied? Anything that would help to bring that smile back to your face; or let you feel like you can talk again?"

Pills. Alcohol. Cigarettes. Hiro turned away, looking over to the clock to see how much time had passed. Its hands were rigid, fixed their own beat and tempo as they made their way around the face of the timepiece. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Repetitive. Unchanging. Just like these visits had been. Just like everything seemed to be now. Hiro's hands went up to clasp tightly in his lap, his fingers intertwining together as he squeezed, trying to get rid of the anxiety-filled energy that was slowly bottling up inside of him. He shifted where he sat, wondering how much more of this he could take. It's already been so long; how much longer could the woman push him when it was so obvious that he was doing all he could not to budge?

"Would it help if we stopped beating around the bush?" She proposed after a moment or two of even more silence between them. So far now it had been standard questions. Nearly all day yesterday had been about seemingly-trivial things. Things like what he liked to do for fun or what his favorite subject in school was or even weirder things such as what his first word was or what his favorite food as a kid had been and what had changed his preference later on in life. Most of the answers – Stapleton had needed them for the file she was making for the boy – had to come from Aunt Cass on the way out, since Hiro was still refusing to speak much. Even today it had mostly been the same things. What his morning routine was, what his nightly one was and how it differed. It was a painstaking process in itself; Hiro was prepared to implode the next time he was asked if he preferred to write with pencils instead of pens. What did it even matter!?

Once Hiro didn't respond, only giving out a short, tempered huff, the doctor cleared her throat before leaning back into her chair, as if she were getting more comfortable for her next step. "Do you want to talk about Tadashi, Hiro?" She murmured softly, and her blue eyes narrowed she gauged the boy's reaction carefully. The teenager's shoulders tensed significantly, his eyes flashing as he turned to look at the woman. He looked reproachful, as if he were preparing himself to snap at her. But any sense of speech that was gathering on the back of the boy's tongue seemed to stop there; the child remained silent, however stiff he had gotten from the few simple words.

She nodded, as if he had confirmed something for her just by his physical response. She wrote something down in her – stupid stupid! – notes before pushing on as if they were conversing about something as simplistic as the weather. "Your aunt told me what happened— she had to, before I could see you and try to see what might be wrong. Of course I tried to diagnose whether or not there was anything else that could have factored into your sudden change in character. But it's hard to tell when you don't want to answer my questions." The sound of the clock on the far wall was deafening by now. "So I have no other alternative but to talk to you about your older brother."

This earned a response; and a sharp one at that. "I don't want to talk about Tadashi."

Stapleton nodded, though the look on her face was a little less than sympathetic. Maybe it was hard to feel something like that for someone you'd spent the past two days with who refused to give way to you. "I understand." She said. Inwardly, Hiro scowled. He doubted that she did. "But right now it seems to be the root of the problem. And my job is to try and talk you through these issues. Do you understand?" She was talking to him as if he was five years old, and the longer she went on, the more irritated and angry the teenager grew. "…Could you tell me a little bit about your older brother? What was he like?"

He was better than I am. Hiro kept the thought to himself like the many others, locking his jaw back as he shifted again on the cushion of the azure sofa. His throat was burning at all of the things that it was holding back, and he tried to remember what it was like to be outside, to not have air that was artificial or stale blowing in your face from a ventilation system. It felt like eons since he had been in the open space, though in reality it had been just this morning. He didn't want to be trapped here. He didn't want to be rooted in place. He didn't want to talk to this woman. And he most certainly did not to talk to her about his older brother.

He was trapped, he was suffocating. Reaching over and grabbing hold on to his arm, Hiro squeezed it tightly, just in the effort to focus on something else. What was Tadashi like? He remembered the way that his brother always woke up in the early hours of the morning when Hiro had called for him, no matter what he had wanted. He remembered the way that, when Hiro had turned seven, Tadashi had built a pillow fort in the living room and hid from Aunt Cass, declaring that there were 'No Girls Allowed.' He remembered how one of the last things that Tadashi had done was turn and smile down at him after the boy had thanked him for all his help in getting to where he had been. He remembered how Tadashi had stapled the flyer for the SFIT Showcase against the wall, and how after the night of the fire, Hiro had climbed up on top of his desk, reaching up and tearing the thing down in a haze of anger and severe grief.

He remembered everything that he had been struggling so hard not to. His fingers curled down at the intrusive thoughts, his nails starting to embed themselves into his skin. Deep crescent shapes were left as he gouged down into his arm, and the skin began to redden from the pain that was being inflicted. However the sensation was background noise to what was going on in front of him. "I really…I don't want to." He mumbled after a long lapse of silence. Stapleton seemed almost confused at this, and Hiro's fingers dug down even further. "I don't want to talk about him." The boy was so desperate that he even added on: "Please."

She did not seem to be swayed by manners, however. "You need to start talking, Hiro." Her tone seemed to have an edge to it, however soft it appeared to be on the outside. And it was all Hiro could do not to flare up even more in response. "Keeping things inside usually ends up being disastrous— not only to you, but to others as well. Don't you care about the rest of your family? About your aunt, who's sitting outside right now?" That wasn't the first time that she had brought up Aunt Cass. But the subtle accusation – that Hiro was harming his guardian – was ridiculous. One of the reasons that he had done what he had was because he was not harming anybody. He wasn't even remotely hurting Aunt Cass with his things. Far from it, in fact. "Because if you keep it all inside, Hiro, eventually it'll just come back up for you. So you need to talk about it."

He was stubborn. "I don't want to."

She swept on as if she had not heard him. "You know that sometimes just talking about people or things can make you feel better about them? I've talked to a lot of people who have lost loved ones, Hiro, and you shouldn't think that I'm lying when I say that this very thing is what's helped a lot of them the most. So why don't you at least tell me a few things about Tadashi? Not a whole lot if you don't want to— we can start small." 'Starting' small meant that they had a ways to go. That this wasn't over and would not be for quite some time. The thought caused Hiro's stomach to curve inward painfully, and the boy gripped both arms, as if he were hugging himself together as his nails dug into his arms with a burning, prickling sensation.

Silence before her incessant prodding came again. "Go on."

It was like Hiro was standing on the edge of a very tall cliff, backing away from the long fall down that was perfectly foreseeable. Yet every time he tried to back away— every time that he tried to save himself from the drop, he was being pushed forward. Encouraged towards what he was trying to avoid with bracing smiles and pointless assurances, first by Aunt Cass and now by Doctor Stapleton. They weren't him; they weren't the ones that were going to fall if they walked forward. So why on Earth did they think that they knew what was best for him? Why on Earth did they think themselves the wiser? He was just doing all he could to try and avoid the plummet. But every time that Aunt Cass stopped him and asked him questions, every fight they had, and now every question proposed by the woman across from him, made such a thing impossible.

He swallowed down the thickness festering in his throat. "…I— …He was…"

Stapleton smiled at him, as if he were a child taking their first, wavering steps. She leaned a little closer to the boy and her grip on the pen in her hand tightened just slightly. It was unquestionable the amount of effort she had spent in these two days with Hiro. Usually her practice went as such— she would begin intrusive, and then once the problem had been stated and once the issue was established, throughout the other visits, the more scheduled ones, they picked the problem apart bit by bit together. However try as she might, Hiro was as open as a clam; perhaps approaching things in a roundabout way would improve the rather nonexistent results so far. "It doesn't have to be much." She repeated, feeling an inkling of excitement and even relief as she looked at the teenager. "Just tell me a few things about Tadashi."

Hiro fixed his gaze firmly on the wooden flooring below him, the only part of the room that wasn't blue. He dug his heels down into the grain, his nails biting holes and scrapes into his arms underneath the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He couldn't describe Tadashi in just a few words— it was impossible to do, because it would never be good enough. But then again it didn't seem like anything was good enough anymore. The boy grimaced, a frown pulling down the edges of his lips as he slowly shook his head. "...He was better than me." He said after a moment, his words so small and soft that Stapleton had to lean even closer in order to hear. "…He was stronger than me." A frown made its way over the specialist's face, and she looked almost confused at the choice in words. But Hiro didn't even glance up at her, studying the design of the wood and wondering if it had been there since the very beginning or if it had been branded into the thing forcibly. "…And he shouldn't have been the one to die."

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The appointment ended earlier than it had yesterday. It was nearing 4:00 in the afternoon by the time that the door leading into the therapist's office opened. Aunt Cass had been alternating seats, trying to busy herself and ultimately draw any unnerving thoughts away from her nephew by seeking out the 'perfect' seat. The one near the far left was too drafty underneath the vent, the one in the middle was too creaky, the one second to that one was too awkward, and the one next to that was too hard. She settled with the one on the far right. Telling herself firmly that it was because it was situated next to the bouquet of flowers and it had within itself the perfect combination of padding to be appropriate. She told herself this rather than admit that the reason she lingered in this seat was because it was closest to the door, putting her closer to her nephew that was inside.

So when the door opened, she immediately sat up erect. The brunette got up to her feet, a smile spreading like wildfire over her face as Hiro walked out. But the fourteen-year-old hardly waited for her; the boy brushed by instead, looking worn-out and more importantly furious. Cass' face fell as she turned to watch the young boy head out to the car instead, his shoulders hunched as he shrugged open the door only to let it fall closed behind him. He didn't wait to see if his guardian was following, and, disheartened, Cass just turned and fished out the key to her vehicle so that she could unlock it for him.

Once she did, she turned back around in order to face the woman that she had met shortly ago. Yet as she fixed her hungry gaze on her, she was reminded just how much she was depending on this person, however short their time had been in one another's company. And when she spoke, her voice was clear in the message of her desperation. "So?" She asked, more or less demanding a positive response. The blonde shifted her weight from foot to foot, and this only furthered Cass' distress. "What happened? Was it better than last time?" It had to be better than last time. Last time the visit had occurred almost directly after a fight between the two of them; and he hadn't been expecting the trip in the first place. This was better— he had known that it would be happening this time around, and he wasn't going in so angry and hurt. …Was he?

The woman took a moment to gather her thoughts, it seemed. But then she looked down. At first Cass assumed it was because she just couldn't bear to hold her gaze anymore. But then the blonde straightened, having loosened a piece of paper out from underneath the grip of her clipboard as she extended out the thing for the guardian to take. "I didn't get a whole lot out from him." She said, nearly identical to her report from last time. Yet as the stricken aunt began to look crestfallen, the doctor swept on. "But what I did manage to get was enlightening enough.

"Your son—" She was about to launch into full detail, but was hindered on the title. Shaking her head with a touch of red embarrassment showing in her ears, Stapleton cleared her throat. "Sorry— he's your nephew. I keep forgetting." The woman opened her mouth to say that it was fine; that, really, she often made the same exact mistake. But the therapist was speaking before she could formulate her own words. "From looking at the boy's file, and taking in what you've told me, he is a very pressing case. With his parents dying when he was so little, there could be some long-term effects of anxiety or fear of abandonment that was awakened with the more recent passing of his brother. This isn't an uncommon thing— a lot of the teenage depression cases I work with have originated from the death of a family member or a loved one."

Cass had stiffened once the nuts and bolts were revealed, however if the doctor noticed this at all she gave no heed, merely sweeping on easily as she thumbed through her notes. There seemed to be a surprising amount— from what the specialist had said, Hiro had spared little in the way of words. The aunt's eyes drilled out the window of the cheery-looking building, over to the car where she could see the boy in question. Her nephew was slouched against the door of the passenger side, already with his seatbelt on as he had his head ducked down into his arms. He was more than ready to go, the woman noticed. But that was not the detail that stuck out to her as she gazed out at the boy who seemed suddenly much too little.

Depression. The mere thought of the word was enough to curb the woman, and she knew that if she spoke it aloud, it would leave a sour tang in the back of her throat. She had known of course— she had known just a few days after Tadashi's death that that was what Hiro had fallen into being. And it had obviously only gotten worse from that point. But now that it was out, now that the term was alive to more than just the eyes of her, it felt…surreal. That someone who she had spent nights laughing with, had sheltered from anything and everything that could serve harm, had protected and loved with surprising ferocity….was not the same person. They were sad and sullen and wanted nothing to do with her anymore. To her, the correct term for that should be heartbreaking. But no. It was depression.

"He shows very prominent signs of stress and high levels of apprehension. He's very reserved in every sense of the word, and when I finally asked about Tadashi, you could certainly see how much that had affected him. He's very sensitive, which is a normal trait in kids when they are in the kind of spot that he is." The doctor then paused for the briefest of moments, pursing her lips slightly as if she was thinking something over. But as Cass turned and rested her rather hopeless gaze onto her, the blonde seemed to skip over whatever was playing around her mind. Instead she inclined her head down to the slip of paper that Cass had taken from her and was now hugging subconsciously against her chest. "I wrote down a few prescriptions." She said, smiling gently as she hoped in the back of her mind the list would help quell some of the brunette's obviously-wrecked nerves

However, the woman only seemed confused, looking down at the slip of paper in her hands for the first time since she had grabbed it. It made even less sense as she stared down at the combinations of letters and numbers that were probably supposed to make sense. "…Prescriptions?" She echoed, sounding bemused. These didn't look like any prescriptions she had ever seen. Granted that mostly the only type that she had been given for Hiro or Tadashi both had been things like a specific kind of Tylenol or something to stop the spread of Chicken Pox. These looked nothing like what she had seen before. "…For…?"

"Normally these are given to kids to balance out their hormones. You see, the main cause for depression is a disruption in a gene that codes for the hormone Serotonin. Usually this specific hormone helps regulate a lot of things—things like mood and social behavior, someone's appetite, how much they sleep, what they do, what they choose to remember or just disregard…all in all, it's typically the first thing to try and fix in someone who's showing signs of depression. And from what you've told me your nephew has been showing these signs for a few months now and it's only gotten worse. So until he decides that it's time to open up and talk more about himself and what he is experiencing, all we have to go off of is that there is something wrong with the chemical balance in his brain. Are you with me so far?" She asked, as if she were a teacher coaching a student through a fairly complicated math lesson.

Cass offered a small, hesitant nod. Though with every word she felt less like she was learning and more like she was being dragged through glass.

"So until we know more, I suggest that you give him some of that. Trial medicine, which at this stage is what it's called, is usually always guaranteed to at least make some sort of good. Often outweighing the very rare 'bads' that it could bring along. They're minimal doses and they aren't that strong until we narrow things down a bit more for his specific needs. I gave you a list to choose from and I would suggest going down to his medical doctor to see which one they would agree with on terms with whatever other medicine he is taking, if any, coupled with his personal history or background. I would suggest going as soon as you could." She glanced down at her wrist, and the watch that was ticking fast there. "Preferably today, I would say. Hiro is a very concerning situation in my eyes; especially when you told me what's been happening and how long it's been stretching out for him. My opinion is that the sooner that things play out, the better."

Cass was nodding, drinking in every word. Of course she would go to the doctor's. As soon as she was gone from here. She would demand the best medicine that could be offered—she would demand anything and everything that was needed. There wasn't a single question about what she would do when it came to her surviving nephew— because the answer was always 'everything.' However, one part of the large speech that Stapleton had given stuck with the woman, and she asked hesitantly: "…May I ask you something? Just…really quick?"

"Of course you can." She said immediately, probably expecting at least one or two inquires.

Cass Hamada turned, looking over in the direction of the car. Hiro had not moved from his curled position. He was still holed away, and there was a pang in the brunette's heart that nearly stole away every breath that was inside of her body. She wasn't Hiro's mother; she knew that much. But she did know how to perfectly make Hiro's favorite hot wings. She knew that when the boy was little he used to wake her up at exactly seven in the morning on her birthday with orange juice and a slightly-burnt Pop-Tart. She knew Hiro's favorite fruit and she knew that once of his favorite colors was red and that he always smiled whenever she brought home Gummy Bears for him from the store. She knew that the boy dabbled in the hobby of kite-building, and that he liked to fiddle around with online gaming and brag about his achievements. Up until now she had known every little detail about her little guy. …And now all that she knew for certain was that ever since Tadashi had died, these things that she had loved so dearly had changed.

"You've said you've handled things like this before." She said softly after a pause.

"Yes." The answer was immediate. "It's an unfortunate detail, but almost half of my patients tend to be on the younger side. And it's certainly not uncommon for teenagers to become depressed. Already during that stage of their lives, developing hormones and genes can get a little haywire. Sometimes there aren't any physical reasons for the change in behavior— it's just a product of a few genes being altered, or an inherent chemical imbalance."

But that hadn't been along the lines of what Cass had been looking for as a reply. Keeping her eyes locked onto her little boy— the boy that she could not have possibly loved more, even if he was her own son – she pressed further. "And these cases…" It felt odd to refer to it that way. As situations, rather than actual people. Was Hiro just that, now? A statistic? A number among many others? Certainly not to her. "…how do they normally turn out?" She asked, her words barely audible as she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. There wasn't a reply at first, and she turned to find that the therapist seemed thoughtful. Hesitant. So she asked again, her voice clearer this time as she silently demanded a response. "Does everything work out in the end? Does it get…does it get easier?" Her voice bent a little towards the end of this, crumbling under the weight of what the inquiry held.

Stapleton held Cass' gaze. "It differs." She said, reserved as she took close care in answering. When Cass did not seem satisfied, Stapleton offered her a quick smile. "Records are a flimsy thing when it comes to this sort of deal. Everyone responds differently to help offered to them. But…" Again there was that pause. Why were there so many of them? "I'm pretty sure that Hiro will take the help in time. From what you've told me, he was a very smart boy." Cass stiffened at the use of past tense, her hands balling into tight fists at the implication that her nephew was now less than a genius. She might as well have called him inept, or stupid. However, the doctor once again did not pay mind to the reaction. "It might be difficult in short-term's sense; but with you pushing hard enough for this, even if he does not want to cooperate like you were talking about yesterday, you will be doing him a favor in the long run. You know?"

When it looked as if even more assurance was needed, the specialist added: "I made a hole in my schedule for these two days, and I will be more than willing to do it again if you need any more help. But right now, I think that for the time being, you need to get him acquainted with whatever medicine your doctor agrees to assign. That'll take a few days, and then you can come back for a shorter appointment— one that would only be a few hours instead. Maybe once he gets some of this medicine into his system he'll be easier to talk to, and I can get clearer answers out of him. Which will then lead to a better look into what's going on his head." Cass remained quiet, and Stapleton gave her a polite, but slightly impatient, smile. "I have an appointment with another one of my clients soon, though, so I'm afraid that if you have any more questions or concerns then you'll have to call me. I wrote down my number on that piece of paper just in case you lost my other one."

Clearly it was a not-so-subtle dismissal. And Cass should have taken it— after all, this woman had just been trying, rather pointlessly, to work on her nephew for the past two days straight. It couldn't have been easy at all, no matter how much money was being poured into the venture. But she still had a question; one that would not be able to rest for much longer as Cass looked down at the sheet she held. "And what if he doesn't want to take the medicine?" She asked, sounding almost pathetic as her eyes rounded out slightly in worry. "What if he won't take it and he just gets worse…? What am I supposed to do?"

"You're his guardian." Stapleton answered. "Legally, you know better than he does, otherwise he wouldn't be living under your roof." If it was supposed to be a joke, Cass was not laughing. "Some of these things are black and white. If he doesn't want to take them, then you have to make it clear that he doesn't have much of a choice. Surprisingly during these times, it isn't the child that has the toughest outlook; it's the parents. Mainly because you're in charge of them. That means you have their best interest at heart, and no matter what it looks like to them, you have to remember that. It doesn't matter what he wants right now, because as of this moment he is nowhere near his right state of mind. You just have to make that clear with him." She glanced down at her wrist again before starting to turn back towards her office. "I have to get going." She began to excuse herself. "My next patient is trying to get over a thing with germs— he won't appreciate things too much if I don't disinfect the couch before he arrives."

That was what she was expected to do? Force the things down his throat? He was already miserable from these few trips down here; was she expected to add this onto the list of misery as well? It seemed like all Hiro and her did these days was look away from each other. That, or fight. Ignored calls, saddened stares, and dismal expressions…how long would all of these things keep going on? How long until it would stop hurting Aunt Cass just to look at her little boy? "…Do you have any children, Doctor Stapleton?" She asked suddenly, her voice quiet as she suddenly shifted topics.

Stapleton perked. She had walked back to her office in the time that it had taken the brunette to land on these words. Her door was halfway ajar, and the doctor lingered over the threshold as she looked back into the makeshift waiting room. She seemed frustrated at the additional stop, but as the inquiry registered, she melted slightly, a smile crawling over her face as she gave as slow nod. "I do." She replied, and Cass recognized the sense of love that vibrated in each syllable spoken. They were in her own voice whenever she spoke of Hiro or Tadashi. "Two little girls." Stapleton went on.

Cass turned, looking back over to Hiro to see that the boy had sat upright, looking pained as he took to staring out the window again. Brooding. Eyes lifeless and dull. Where had his laughter gone? Where had all the love drained away and why couldn't it come back? "Then how…can you possibly make it seem like this will be easy?" She whispered.

But Stapleton had already vanished back into her office.

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When Cass got back into the car, she was already armed with a smile. Hiro barely glanced over at her as she snapped the engine into motion, looking away just as quickly as his eyes had flickered over to her in the first place. Aunt Cass' smile wavered slightly as the teenager just took to staring out the window again, and against herself, she blew out a small sigh through her nose. Her heart was twisted and sick in the face of her cold nephew, but she struggled against it anyway, doing her best not to give up. "How did it go?" She asked, the question coming as second nature to the woman. How many times had she waited for Hiro to crawl up into the car just so she could ask how his day went; had he liked school, had he had fun? When he didn't reply at first, a shadow flitted over the woman's face. "…Was it better than yesterday?" She pressed after a moment.

Hiro's voice was thin and resolute when he stated: "I'm not going back there."

Cass winced. But, remembering what Stapleton had told her just a few minutes ago, she steeled herself as best she could. "You have to." She said, forcing her voice not to show the guilt that was starting to choke her. "It's the only way that I know how to help you, Hiro; and it will help you by the end of this. Doctor Stapleton was highly recommended in the Phone Book." She tried not to notice the boy roll his eyes at this. "I know that it's hard for you and I know that you don't want to do this, but you have to know that this is the only way that everything will turn out okay."

"You don't know that!" Hiro snapped, scowling through the windshield. He didn't even turn to look at Aunt Cass as he objected hotly. The young boy shook his head in a fit of worked-up frustration. "You're just saying that to try and make it seem like what you're doing is called for! But it isn't! I told you specifically that I didn't want to do this and you shove me into that stupid room for two whole days anyway. I don't want to sit there for hours on end and I don't want somebody looking at me like I'm some kind of charity case!" Only now did he look at Aunt Cass, and when he did his eyes were glazed over, his teeth gritting together in a twisted frown. "I don't want to talk about Tadashi and I don't want to come back here I just want to be alone, and that's not a bad thing— that don't mean that I need any of this. At all." He paused, swallowing. "…Can't you just understand that?"

At the soft, subtle pleading, Cass almost caved. She almost lunged forward to wrap her nephew into a tight hug; she almost carded her fingers lovingly through his hair, shushing him softly as she assured him that it would be alright. That she wouldn't go on to hurt him even more; that all she wanted was for him to be happy, and that if this was making things worse, then she would put a stop to it as soon as she could. But looking at him, at his broken-down expression, she could not remember the last time that he had laughed, the last time that he had seemed to be genuinely having a good time. All she could remember was the words that he had shouted at her Sunday morning. And the way that he had been found in the shower Saturday night, nearly unconscious and trembling underneath the cold water from the shower. And before she could hesitate, she was speaking. "No." She said, literally seeing the brief dash of hope that had wriggled into Hiro's eyes leak away entirely. "I can't understand. I can't understand how things have gotten this wrong. And until I do this is how it has to be. You have another appointment on Friday."

Hiro opened his mouth, another battle already building on the back of his tongue. Cass braced herself, holding her nephew's sharp gaze as best she could. But it seemed that in the middle of his thoughts, he stuttered, realizing that any more fighting was pointless and would only be in vain. He shut his mouth, closing his eyes as he turned his back to the woman. Aunt Cass was left surprised at the sudden act of giving up, but mostly she was just left feeling injured, as if she had been slapped across the face instead. Ducking down slightly, the woman turned and started out from the parking lot, turning the car in the general direction of the medical center she had been taking Hiro to get check-ups in since he was three.

However she was stopped short as Hiro mumbled softly. "Can I please just go home?"

"…We have to go to your doctor's." She said hesitantly, glancing over at him as she bit down on her lower lip. "I have to talk to him about what kind of medicine I should get for you. We have to make sure that it's the right one and that it'll help you the most…." Because I can't bear for things to go on like this much longer. She did not voice the words, no matter how hard they were pushing at the barrier of her teeth. Brightly, trying to offer reassurance once the boy did not turn, she said: "It shouldn't take too long. We just have to talk to your doctor and go over your medical history and then add a few things. We should be back around six or—"

"I just want to go home." He repeated, his voice curling inward pathetically. He reached up and buried his head into his hands, his fingers curling in to dig his nails into his skull. The sight was more than heart wrenching for the older woman, and she fought the urge to stop the car and pull him close yet again. "You can drop me off or something, can't you? I just want to lay down; I don't feel good." Cass hesitated. She didn't want to leave Hiro alone anymore at all, if she was being honest with herself. The thought was suddenly unnerving after everything that had happened, and it showed in the nervous way that she gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. As if seeing this, Hiro pressed. "Please?"

They drove in silence for a few minutes, Cass gnawing on her bottom lip as Hiro stared dismally out the window at the passing cars and buildings. The brunette swallowed, allowing herself just the smallest bit more of agony before she took a sudden sharp turn to the left, barely having even a second to turn her blinker on before executing the shift. Hiro stirred at this, grabbing at his car door with a jarred expression as he tried to right himself. "Sorry, sorry." Aunt Cass mumbled, frazzled as she recovered a little bit before going on. But when she did, mapping out the route that would take her the alternate way back, she heaved a short sigh. "Okay." She said, her voice obviously holding a small tone of warning. "I can drop you off and go to the doctor's myself. But you have to stay home, Hiro, do you understand me?" Her words were sharp and barbed. "If I come home and you aren't there, we're going to have a problem."

"I know." He mumbled in response, not sounding thrilled at all that Aunt Cass had caved into his favor.

She hesitated, tempted to pry even further for a clear-cut response of: 'Yes, I will not leave the house while you're gone; of course I won't.' But as she opened her mouth, she decided to choke it back down instead. She couldn't push him even farther— she couldn't bring herself to do anything of the sort. So she just took the two-word reply, trying to assure herself that it would be enough and that she could trust her nephew to be home alone for a few hours. She had already forced him to go to the therapists' office twice now for obscenely-long amounts of time, and it was clear that furthering this whole situation would only make him even more strung-out.

It was better for him to go home. He could lay down and clear his mind a little bit more. Once Aunt Cass purchased the medicine and brought it back, and once the boy started to take the daily dosages, things would even out. Hiro would being to revert back to his old self; and with the help of Doctor Stapleton, things would go back to normal. Like a scale being equalized, it would all balance itself out. Everything would be okay then. This was just the home stretch.

And she told herself this repeatedly— the entire thirty minutes it took to get back to their home.

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"Rock, Paper, Scissors!" At the last call to action, the two boys jerked forward, one throwing scissors and the other choosing rock. A pleased smile spread over the victor, and they leaned forward to lightly tap the other's hand, mimicking the action of crushing his throw. The other, their face rounded with youth, seemed perturbed by this. However the other just laughed lightly, leaning over to ruffle the small child's hair. "What do you expect, little brother?" Tadashi grinned a little crookedly. "You always throw scissors."

Rather than defend his actions, Hiro just offered a large, slightly gap-toothed grin. "Leonardo da Vinci invented the scissors." He declared, swinging his legs a little where he sat. The toddler was always bursting with facts and interesting trivia, though this one Tadashi had not heard before.

"Really? I didn't know that." Tadashi said, offering a smile of his own as he looked down at his baby brother. "Geez; next time you make me cut out finger puppets with you, I'll give some thanks to the Renaissance." Hiro giggled, grinning with an obvious air of pride at the fact that he had known something his older brother hadn't. "Why don't you tell Aunt Cass?" Tadashi went on to ask, glancing up to see the woman in deep conversation with the person she had hired to take their photographs. They had taken a few of them so far today, but it was slow going. Cass had said something along the lines of needing a few frames of them together for the hallway back home, as well as something for their Christmas card that year. It was taking most of the day, though, which was part of the reason why Tadashi was trying to curb Hiro's attention in the effort to make sure that he didn't get too bored or fussy. His aunt seemed to be on the verge herself by now, though. "I'm pretty sure that she could use some interesting pieces of trivia. She's getting a little frustrated."

Hiro brightened, looking more than enthusiastic at the new idea. "Okay!" He chirped, hopping off of his bench and scurrying over in the direction of his aunt. Tadashi stood as well, already calling out a cautionary warning to the younger boy at his sudden takeoff. As if roused by the call, Aunt Cass turned from the photographer to look back at the pair, looking surprised at the fact that she was now being charged at by the barely-three-foot child. She stretched out her arms willingly enough to scoop up the boy, however she was too late before Hiro took a misstep, falling forward and landing with a hard thud on the ground. It had sent a shock up through the boy's entire body, and breath was found suddenly harder to come by.

Aunt Cass went absolutely rigid, thoroughly alarmed by the pitch forward. She looked as if she were about to rush down to the little boy's level; but she was nowhere near as quick as Tadashi had been. Like a slide into home during a baseball game, the young boy skidded to a stop, crouching down low and immediately reaching out to help the boy sit back up. The toddler's knee was scraped and bleeding— the fall had seemed harmless enough at first but at the sight of the blood that was welling up from the gash in the boy's skin, it was apparently proved otherwise. Hiro's eyes had been welling up with water already, but at the sight of the torn skin and blood, he started to bawl. A typical reaction for someone so little, and though Aunt Cass began to look panicked, Tadashi was the opposite.

"Aw, c'mon, Hiro; it isn't that bad, is it?" He asked, his tone soothing as he studied the injury. The younger did not reply, head ducked down into his hands as he cried heavily. Tadashi frowned, wishing that he had brought along a Band-Aid or something. For all that the three-year-old could manage, Hiro was always clumsy. Some foresight should have been developed in the sense that they would be walking around the city for photos today. Hesitating a moment, the elder brother contemplated before suddenly lashing forward, gripping the boy's shoulders tightly and giving him a jarring shake.

"Oh no!" Tadashi gasped dramatically, the three-year-old's sobs cutting off into a shocked hiccup at the sudden rattle. "Oh no, oh no!" He blabbed, watching as the boy looked more confused than anything now. "Your leg! Oh my gosh; your leg! It's ruined! It's done for!" At the obviously-comical shouts and cries, Hiro blinked, his crying subsiding slowly as a hint of laughter started to bleed into the boy's sharp gasps. "Quick, Aunt Cass, we have to run down to the Hospital! This boy needs an amputation, and fast!" He shot up to his feet, stooping down a heartbeat after to scoop his little brother up in his arms, grinning as he bounced him up and down erratically. This proved itself to be effective— the boy was grinning ear to ear now, giggles rising up from him like bubbles. And they only increased as Tadashi started to spin around in a tight circle, causing a dizzy spell to overtake both of them.

Once the spinning got to be too much, Tadashi came to stop, panting as he offered his younger brother an overplayed, concerned frown. There were probably splotches of blood dying themselves near the bottom of his pants leg, but such a concern was the last thing on the older brother's mind. He only reached up quickly to poke at Hiro's nose. "Are you okay?" He asked intensely. Hiro was beaming, and he nodded vigorously with yet another burst of laughter. "Are you quite sure?" Tadashi demanded further. Another nod, more giggles. "Okay then. I don't have to get an ambulance?" Hiro shook his head, and Tadashi nodded his in response. "Alright then." He said, leaning down and plopping the little one back down on the ground, making sure that he regained his footing before pulling away. And when he did, he raised his eyebrows in a small smile. "That's why you don't go running off, Knucklehead; you'll fall."

The photographer was the one to break up the scene. "We're losing daylight, people!" He chided, as if it were their fault that this had been taking so long. And, granted, they might have been slowed down when Hiro and Tadashi broke out into a game of tag, and their progress might have been stagnated for a while when Hiro ran off to try and chase a frog and Aunt Cass and Tadashi had been forced to track him back down. …But really, the blame was hardly resting on them. "Last picture!" Apparently this had been decided on as the final spot. And it certainly looked like a winner— they were overlooking a large majority of San Franksokyo, with its large red bridge lining the horizon. Granted, for the picture it would probably be out of focus; but at this time of the afternoon, with a few of the city lights switching on, it looked like it could make a good setting for a picture. One that would look even better in a frame in the hall.

It was getting late, too. Aunt Cass glanced at the wristwatch that the photographer was wearing and walked over, closing the distance between herself and the children before she gathered up Hiro in her arms. "Alright, kids." She said as she balanced the little one on the side of her hip. "Let's do this last one and then we can go out for some ice cream; how's that sound?" There was a chorus of agreement from the two boys, and Tadashi kept in line with his aunt as the woman walked to the edge of the bridge that they were standing on. Turning and setting Hiro down on one of the benches that lined the sides, she checked his knee briefly, offering him a loving kiss on the top of his head as she promised that she would find a Band-Aid for him as soon as this whole thing was finished.

The photographer, satisfied at the finality that this shot seemed to hold, stepped back to arrange themselves properly for the picture. They were mumbling underneath their breath, things like what to do with the lighting and the glare that the setting sun might give off. In the meanwhile, Aunt Cass arranged herself so that Hiro, who was standing on top of the bench for his short stature, could be seen. Tadashi took to his aunt's side, glancing over his shoulder to his brother as he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in a comical expression. Hiro responded by rolling his eyes back into his head, throwing the older brother his own funny look in retaliation. He had just figured out how to roll back his eyes, and the tiny kid never seemed to miss the opportunity to show off the skill when there came one. And the chances rose far more than one would expect, Tadashi had found out.

He turned back around once a pressure settled over his neck. Aunt Cass had leaned over to wrap her arms affectionately around the boy's collar, hugging him tightly to herself. As the photographer started to count down from ten to the moment that he would snap the picture, Aunt Cass leaned over, not only so that Hiro could be seen in the picture as well, but so that her cheek was pressed flush against Tadashi's own. And, glancing up at the littler of the Hamada brothers, who had gotten on top of his toes in the effort to be taller, she squeezed the boy a little bit tighter. "I'm so proud of you." She murmured softly, her eyes filled with the emotion as she smiled from ear to ear almost. "…I'm very proud of both of my little guys. I love you two so much!" She announced a little bit louder, gushing over herself like she had the tendency to do.

"Aunt Cass, Aunt Cass!" Hiro chirped, resting his hands on the woman's head as he leaned over in his eagerness. Cass blinked, raising her eyebrows as she glanced back at the boy in a questioning manner. "Leonardo da Vinci invented the scissors! Did you know that? Tadashi didn't! And I did! Isn't that awesome!?" There was a thrilled smile over the little boy's face, and he bounced a little bit on the tips of his feet.

An even larger smile spread over Cass' face if possible. "I've gotta have the smartest little kids in San Franksokyo!" She trilled, giving a few small hops herself, pulling in tight so that, altogether, there was less than an inch between the family. Hiro grinned toothily and Tadashi smiled as well, a small laugh escaping the ten-year-old as he turned back to look at his aunt. And as he did, there was a sharp order from the photographer, a one-word command that they had heard about a million times this day alone.

"Smile!"

…

It was the little things that managed to stick and lodge itself into your brain. And, eventually, it was the little things that, once accumulated and stacked on top of one another, could end up doing the most damage. Hiro, sitting on top of Tadashi's bed, stared down at the framed photo that he had taken down on his way back upstairs. He looked at himself, much younger, and at Aunt Cass, much happier. They both looked happier, in fact. But that was not the main focus of the boy's— no, it wasn't even close. His eyes, heavy with exhaustion and weariness, were drilled onto the small form of his older brother. He was, predictably, younger and smaller; but his smile. His smile was exactly the same as Hiro had remembered, and the sight of the familiar expression was enough to cause the knife in his chest to twist wickedly to the side.

Aunt Cass had pulled up to the house and dropped him off nearly half an hour ago, leaning over before the boy could even make a move to get out with her regular call of: "Last Hug!" Though this one had been significantly quieter than her normal chirp, and there was a sense of bitter regret to the embrace as it enveloped the child. Hiro did not return the hug, his arms limp and lifeless as he just waited for the woman to pull away. Frustration and irritation burned thick in the boy's throat, and as he curled closer to himself on the bed, his hands shook with the pent-up emotions, the picture he held close blurring slightly as his vision faltered.

He remembered that day. The way that Tadashi had played with him when the young boy was getting too fidgety or whiney. He remembered how Aunt Cass had swooped down and lifted him high into the air after this very picture had been taken, spinning around to plant raspberries into his stomach. He remembered how Tadashi had dropped a rock down off of the bridge they had taken this picture on, counting the seconds it had taken until it hit the water below. He remembered how they had gone out for ice cream afterwards, and Hiro had gotten the same flavor as Tadashi had only to have his melt in about five minutes.

He wondered if that was because it had truly been a fun day, or if it was just because, now, he would give anything to go back to it.

Aunt Cass had pulled away from the building once she had watched Hiro vanish inside, and she had been gone for quite some time now. He didn't know how long it would take for his aunt to finish up at the doctor's, and therefore he did not know what time she would come home. He assumed somewhere around dinner, and he turned to look back at the clock on the wall. It was nearly five.

Abruptly he stood up from the bed. The boy walked over to the other end of the room, ducking down to pick up his backpack, which had been strewn on the ground probably quite some time ago. There were a few things inside of it from its last use— a notebook, a few pencils, and a binder, which showed just long ago he had actually used the thing. Reaching into the bag he tossed out the binder, replacing it instead with the hijacked picture he had taken off of the wall near the stairs.

Busying around the room, he gathered up the things that he knew he needed. He opened up the chest at the foot of his bed and took out the blanket that he had stuffed inside. And upon removal of the threadbare thing, the few sparse bottles of alcohol that he had managed to keep were revealed. It was only a few— the rest he hadn't had the self-control to refrain from drinking down. Nevertheless, the boy began stuffing the few glasses into the backpack, putting them down on their sides in the attempt to try and conserve as much space as he could. And then he stuffed the blanket down once more in order to obscure the sight of all the empty ones that he had hidden there as well, ensuring that the sight was covered. And then, once he was done with managing the bottles, Hiro drew up to a standing position, walking over to the other end of his bed and delving underneath his pillow.

His fingers wrapped tightly around the bottle there, as if it were a lifeline he had learned to cling to. And into the backpack it went, landing with a small clink on top of the mound of bottles already there. As he did this, as he packed away the few things, he was mumbling under his breath, the words barely audible. "I'm not going to stay here like I'm some stupid charity case. I'm not going back to that stupid office and I'm not taking any stupid medicine." It was as if everything that had been building up inside of him, everything that he had wanted to say back in the car to Aunt Cass, was all spilling out now, and he was unable to hold it back anymore. "You don't even listen when I talk anymore. You wouldn't even listen to me if I tried to explain, so why should I stay here? This entire thing is stupid, it's idiotic, and it's ridiculous. It's—"

As he straightened, readying himself to go down the steps, he hesitated. His eyes were drawn to the side, over to the bed in which he had been sitting just a few minutes ago. Yesterday morning, after he and Aunt Cass had fought, he had returned Tadashi's hat that was on his bedside table over to its rightful spot on his older brother's bed. And now it lay there untouched, seeming much smaller now than how it did when it was on tucked down on top of Tadashi's head. And, standing at the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing and the other on the strap of the backpack slung over one shoulder, Hiro felt that same twisting sensation in the pit of the stomach.

Quickly, before he could give himself the chance to change his mind, the boy walked back over to the bed, leaning down and picking up the thing. For a moment he was still, his eyes scouring every stitch and every piece of felt on the hat. His thumb ran itself back and forth across the brim, and in the rear of his mind, he wondered whether or not the cap would still smell like smoke if he buried his nose down into it. Not allowing himself the chance to find out, Hiro reached up instead to put it on top of his head, tugging down the hat, which was a little bit big on him. He paid little mind, though, only turning and trudging back over to the steps.

Once he got down to the lower level of the building, he veered to the right, rounding the counter and going over to the cash register. His face was unchanged as he leaned forward, typing in the required code and this time taking out fistfuls of money. Of tens and twenties that he stuffed away into the front of his hoodie and into the pockets of his jeans. He didn't even try to be inconspicuous, taking as much that would fit before slamming the thing shut as loud as he could.

And as he turned to make for the exit of the store, he slipped his phone out from his pocket and into his hands, making quick work as he texted this time, rather than call. He found the number that he was looking for— locating it easily considering he only had three numbers in his mobile and the other two were Aunt Cass and Wasabi. Cutting it short and simple, he resigned himself to typing out one singular phrase, knowing that it would be more than enough.

Help.

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By the time Aunt Cass came home, she had a small plastic bag looped over her arm which contained the prescription that the doctor had settled on. It had taken about one and a half to two hours in order to leaf through Hiro's medical history and for Aunt Cass to brief the doctor on what was happening now with the child. But she managed to be given a name for the new medicine, and she was even given the opportunity to be able to pick it up as well, which had taken another long while in consequence. But now she was back, striding through the door of her bakery. There was a large smile on her face, showing not only her effort to try and make up with Hiro, but showing as well the newfound hope that she had felt once she had been given the small casing of healing tablets at the office.

"Hiro!" She called, her voice much lighter than it had been last time she had spoken to her nephew. There wasn't a call back to her, but she was unbothered, turning instead to start walking up the steps once she locked the door up behind her. "…I'm back!" She continued, figuring that her voice would carry up to the boy's room. Again there was no reply, and she gave a tired sort of smile, feeling a small twist of guilt. "I was thinking that we could maybe go out to eat tonight!" She continued, hoping that she could try and smooth over the rifts between them. "We can go wherever you want! …And then maybe afterwards we can go to your favorite ice cream shop! …What do you say? …Hiro?"

The woman frowned, pained as she started to scale the steps up to the boy's room. "…Look, Hiro, I know that you're angry, and you have every right to be with all I'm making you do. But you have to understand that it hurts me just as much as it hurts you— maybe even more. I just want to see your smile again, honey. And I just think that…if you could…" Her voice trailed off, the woman coming to a stop at the top of the stairs. She blinked, looking a tiny bit confused as she looked around the room to find that it appeared vacant. Cass was silent for a moment, but she refocused as her eyes landed on top of Hiro's bed, realizing that there was a mound hidden away underneath the covers.

"Hiro, sweetie, please don't hide from me." She murmured, going over and putting a hand down on top of the small hill. "…You just have to take two pills and then we can go out to eat. Doesn't that sound good? We can go find somewhere that has the best chicken wings in the city. …Huh?" Her voice broke as she prompted the child, and hesitantly she reached over take away the covers. "All you have to do before that is take a small amount of—" She was cut off suddenly, her pained grimace slowly evolving into horror. She dropped the comforter of the bed, a hand clapping over her mouth as she was left staring at just a bunch of pillows. The shape hadn't been Hiro's. And the boy hadn't just been ignoring her.

"Hiro!?" She shouted, her voice rising into sharp panic as she whirled around, scouring every inch of the room for her nephew. He wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Hiro!?" She screamed, half-tripping down the stairs as she flew into the living room. He wasn't in the kitchen, and he hadn't been in the café, the bathroom door was open… "Hiro!" Cass yelled, her voice grating against her throat. Dropping the plastic bag that she held, the woman went so far as to look into her room to see if the boy had taken refuge there; she even checked the hallway closet, which was far too cluttered with winter gear and unused coats to have space for him in the first place. Each room she looked in was empty. Her nephew was nowhere to be seen.

Should she call the police? Should she call Hiro? Should she ask the neighbors if they had seen him leave? Where had he gone? Was he hurt? Was he in trouble? What on Earth was he thinking? Where could he have gone? Hyperventilation and paranoia was quick to set in on Aunt Cass, and with every passing thought the feeling seemed to grow more and more. Her hands trembled as she raised them up to press against her head, and tears were already welling up from the depths of her eyes. What could she do? What was she supposed to—?

There was a sudden series of knocks on the door. Aunt Cass stiffened at once, her eyes widening to be ten times their normal size. Immediately, her thoughts shifted to the best case scenario. Hiro had stepped out for a few minutes to get some air, and after she had locked the door on her way in he was wanting to get back inside. She jerked, turning around and rushing down to the front door, taking the steps two at a time and nearly tripping over herself three or four times in the process. Blindly, she ripped open the door, her mouth already open as a flurry of words built themselves on top of it. But she was stopped short at the sight that met her, realization and recognition slamming into her stomach like a punch.

Outside, on the front stoop of the building, was the small group of Tadashi's old friends. It took a moment for the names to occur, but eventually they did, just in time for Wasabi to speak up from where he stood. "Sorry to bother you…Miss Hamada…but we were hoping that we could maybe…talk to you?" He asked, obviously hesitant in his words. Off to the side, Honey Lemon was rocking on the balls of her feet, biting down on her lower lip as her hands wrung tightly in front of her.

It took Cass a moment to gather herself, and when she did, she wondered wildly if Hiro was with them. He had to be— this was the group that the boy had taken refuge to when he could not find comfort in being with her. He spent days on end with these people, often without asking for permission first. He had to be with them. Was he hidden in the back? Too short to be seen as he waited for the others to say something to her on his behalf? Or could he be waiting in the car that was parked along the side of the curb? Hurriedly, she fumbled for a moment. "I'm sorry." She said, her voice sounding odd even to her. "I didn't mean to upset him so much. Please, just let me talk to him. Let me clear things up."

Wasabi seemed confused at this, glancing over to GoGo, who seemed just as baffled. But the girl shook her head, taking a small step forward as she tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "Um…we were hoping that we could talk to you about Hiro." She said, her tone wary. Cass looked a tad confused at this, but she shut her mouth anyway, her eyes flickering every so often over to the car, as if she was waiting to see the small shape of her nephew inside waiting. "We're really worried about him, and we were hoping that if we couldn't talk to him, we could talk to you instead…? It might not be our place or anything, but Hiro's still our friend; and we're really worried about him."

Cass stilled, her heart slowly beginning to drop. "…wait…what?" She rasped.

Wasabi picked it up from there. "When I picked Hiro up a while ago, I didn't get the chance to talk to you. I wasn't thinking much about it, but after a while I realized that it might have been a mistake." Cass's hand, which was still resting on the doorknob, tightened in its grip. "I was driving back home from shopping in a store downtown, and I found him in an alleyway…unconscious. Or at least…something like that." He amended quickly, as if trying to clean up the story and make it appear less harmful.

Cass was mute now, and Honey Lemon was visibly in pain as she glanced down at the ground. The blonde was acutely aware that the last time she had seen the woman was at Tadashi's funeral. And not much had changed since then. The woman still looked tired and stressed. Her hair wasn't as kept as it usually was, and there was a sad kind of light to her eyes when she stared blankly at the group in front of her. She looked like she wanted to say something but she kept holding herself back.

As the silence stretched on, Wasabi cleared his throat a little bit and kept going. "He wasn't making a lot of sense when I first woke him up, and…he just seemed…off. It was really late when I found him, and I wanted to talk to him afterwards to try and figure out what was going on because I was so concerned. But after I managed to find out his phone number, he would never answer me. I tried to call every day since then and it's either just rang out until I get the voicemail or he just declines it." The college student shifted slightly, and he hesitated a second more before adding: "I didn't know how much of this you knew or if you could clear anything up or something. Obviously I'm not trying to get him into any of kind of trouble; that's the last thing I would want to do because he's one of my best friends, yet the fact remains that—"

GoGo cut him off, finishing for the other before he could mess things up even more. "We're just looking for answers." She elaborated.

"If you could give us any." Honey Lemon offered a little meekly where she stood.

But when Aunt Cass spoke, her voice was even smaller than the blonde's, her eyes widened in a hopeless kind of stare as she gazed emptily at the group. It was already clear by the look in her eyes that whatever was coming next wouldn't be good; even Fred, often the dullest of the four, seemed to grasp this as he became unnaturally solemn. And their fears were answered as the woman spoke, her voice just as stricken as the expression written over her face. "…you mean he isn't with you?" She asked, her voice getting louder as she spoke only because of her clearly-mounting fear. When nobody answered her and her stare was only returned with confused gazes, she pressed harder, her voice spiking in its volume and intensity. "You mean Hiro isn't with you?" She repeated, slowly becoming frantic as she drew her hand away from the doorknob quickly. "He didn't go to any of you!?"

"What do you mean?" Honey Lemon was the first to ask, looking frightened at the sudden turn of events.

"I-I came home from his doctor; I was supposed to get him medicine. I made him go to the therapists' office these past two days and I told him that he had to go again! He was fighting me and yelling— he said that he didn't want to do anything that I was making him. But I told him he had no choice— I had no choice! The therapist told me that no matter what happened I had to do all of this to make sure— to make sure that Hiro got better!" Her words were going a mile a minute now, and as everything began to overflow, she wasn't even aware of whether or not she was making any kind of sense. The teenagers were shell-shocked as they stared at her with open mouths. "He's just been so angry and upset ever since Tadashi and no matter what I do I can't seem to make him feel any better!

"I thought that tonight I could try and make it up to him by taking him out to eat once I got home, but when I got back he wasn't at home! I looked everywhere for him but no matter where I looked he didn't seem to be anywhere and now he's gone! I knew that he was upset and I knew that the only time he was really happy was when he would leave to go be with you guys, but I didn't think that he would actually run away! And why didn't he just go back to you all? Ever since Tadashi died, that's all he's done and I just can't believe that—"

"Wait a minute….what?" Fred asked, cutting her of midsentence.

Cass straightened, her face flushed pink by now.

GoGo glanced questioningly at Honey Lemon, but the other girl looked just as concerned. The shortest of the group turned, her forehead creased as her eyes narrowed down slowly. "We…we haven't seen Hiro since the funeral." She said slowly, noticing the abrupt change in the woman's demeanor. Her head tilted a little bit to the side and she seemed a little more than puzzled. "We've been trying to get ahold of him since then; but all he's done is ignore us. That's why we came tonight because we haven't seen him in so long. He hasn't been near us in months."

Silence.

"You said that he's gone?" Honey Lemon asked, eyes big and round.

"You don't have any idea at all where he could be?" GoGo demanded.

"Do you want some help looking for him?" Fred volunteered.

"I could drive around downtown if you want." Wasabi offered.

"Let's call the police." GoGo asserted quickly, already taking out her phone.

Honey Lemon suddenly looked sympathetic, going over and looking as if she were trying to reach out the brunette. "Do you want to sit down for a minute?" She offered with a small frown. "I could make you some tea if you'd like. I know a few simple ones that I could whip up."

But with every interjection, Aunt Cass did not move a single muscle. Hiro….Hiro hadn't been out with them…? They hadn't seen him ever since the funeral…? Then— then where had he been all this time? Where had he gone? What had he been doing? Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach, and so very very stupid that she had let this happen for so long. Why hadn't she asked to see him meet up with them at least once? Why hadn't she raised an eyebrow at the way that he had come home late nearly every single night? Why hadn't she paid more attention to her nephew, to her baby boy? How she have let it get this far?

She didn't react as Honey Lemon started to pull her back into the bakery, out from the cold and back into the heated building. She didn't react when Wasabi turned and rushed back to his car, yelling something about how he could search for him before the boy could get too much farther. And she was still numb when Fred asked her if there was anything that he could do to help out as well.

From the corner of the bakery, having closed the door behind her, GoGo had already pulled out her phone and dialed the police station, launching into detail the second that her call was answered. She rattled things off such as 'missing child' and 'fourteen years of age.' She glanced over Aunt Cass' way briefly before adding in a slightly questioning tone, as if looking for the woman to correct her: '…depressed?' Once the woman did nothing of the sort, only staring forward blankly, GoGo affirmed the statement and moved on. And as Honey Lemon started to mess around in the kitchen, knowing the blueprint of the building and how it worked like the back of her hand since they had been here so often with Tadashi, GoGo covered up the mouthpiece of her cellphone to turn and look over at the older woman. "Aunt Cass." She called, trying to get a reaction out from the shelled woman. "…Aunt Cass, can you remember what Hiro was wearing? Before he left?"

She did not reply. How could she had been so thoughtless? How could she have let her happiness over the mere possibility that Hiro could be getting better take up everything else? She was supposed to be the protector, the mother…how could she have made such an awful mistake? She had already lost Tadashi; was she destined to lose Hiro as well?

"Aunt Cass…Aunt Cass, they need to know what Hiro was wearing when he left. They said it would help find him."

Cass blinked slowly, her movements robotic and stiff as she raised her hands to cradle her head gingerly. And she slowly shook her head.

"I don't know." She whispered brokenly. "…I don't know anymore."

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Hiro's backpack dragged heavily at the boy as he walked, despite the fact that it only weighed a few pounds at the least. The money he had looted burned holes in his pockets, but he kept straight on, the too-big hat tugged down to cover most of his face. He stuck to the shadows of the streets; he had been walking for a long while and so far, every car that passed him never stopped on the boy's account. And why should they in the first place?

The boy had walked until he came across the sound of rousing cheers and voices down from one of the branching alleyways. Checking that the junction in the street was the correct one, the boy turned and ducked down the far wall, the sight of an underground bot fight coming into view as he rounded the corner. Whatever kind of brawl was going on, it seemed to be a truly rousing one by the sound of the crowd crammed inside of the small clearing. Hiro didn't even glance over towards the center though, the child looking everywhere but what seemed to be the center of attention as he scanned the crowd of people instead. His eyes drilled for the familiar hue of red hair and the black star of a tattoo.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of searching the mass, he landed on the sight he was looking for. Redhead was alone this time, waiting against one of the far walls edging the lot. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she watched the fight with only the faintest signs of interest. Immediately, showing no sign of the hesitance that he once had in respect to the girl, Hiro veered over towards her, pushing and weaving through the people that were planted in his way. Redhead perked as she caught sight of him, leaning out to stand back up to her feet as she watched him silently. Only when he got close did she greet him, and it was the standard shout that Hiro had grown used to, albeit reluctantly. "Hey, Grumpy." She said, eyeing him as he came to a stop. "…You look awful." The added comment, rude in nature, came across as conversational and harmless with the way that she had said it.

"Thanks." Hiro growled, the girl looking surprised at the amount of venom that was still in his voice, leftover residue from the past two days.

But she seemed to shake it off. "So?" She prompted, drawing out her phone and opening up his text. "What do ya need?" It was the routine question, and it was clear by the way that it was proposed that Redhead expected nothing more than schedule from the young boy. After all, they had done little else before. A little self-consciously, the boy turned and shrugged his backpack up so that it was more secure on his shoulder, shifting on the balls of his feet. When he didn't reply for a moment or two, Redhead pressed, offering the ideas for him. "…hm? Do you need liquor?" Still nothing. "…More pills?"

He sighed out through his nose, one hand lingering on the strap of his pack as he shook his head. "No, I don't need any of that." He said, thinking to the stash that he had stuffed away in his bag. He didn't need any of that at this moment, anyway. He shook his head instead, waving down the offers and instead putting out his own, the boy's face hollow, as if it had been carved of all life. "I need a place to stay." He mumbled.

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A/N: I love hearing from you all and as soon as I get enough feedback I will begin working on the next chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	6. Chapter 6

"So what's this all about, then?" The inevitable question reared its ugly head nearly an hour after he had first expected that it would. But despite the fact that it came later than anticipated, Hiro still felt bitterness wrap a tight vice around his throat. The teenager pretended that he hadn't heard the pry, instead turning and putting far too much effort into looking around the room he now found himself in. It was rather small— enough space for a long couch against the wall, and a television set situated in front of it. There was a small, rounded coffee table nearest to that with a few books stacked on top, though they looked like they had been there untouched for quite some time. There was a narrow-looking hall that branched off of the living area, and it could only lead to other rooms, such as maybe a bedroom or a bathroom. It wasn't the worst apartment that Hiro had ever seen; but it certainly wasn't stellar in any way either.

Redhead had taken him back to this place from the bot fight, surprisingly willing to comply with the odd request that the fourteen-year-old had made. It had been a rather short walk from the alleyway to the building where she rented out a space to live, and the entire time there hadn't been a single question of his motives. Instead, Redhead had rambled on about things like how her purple-haired friend from back at the party had come by the other day. Or that a while ago she had been watching a bot fight that Hiro could have, in her own words, won with one hand tied behind his back. She had asked where he had been these past two days, and she had wanted to know if he wanted something else from her. But through the inquiries he did not answer a single one, dreading instead the next question that had to have been on the tip of her tongue. Yet during the entire walk, she hadn't stopped for even a moment to ask him why exactly he needed to stay with her.

Hiro had even begun to hope that she wouldn't broach the subject at all.

But now he realized he should have been a bit smarter than to assume such a thing.

When the teenager didn't reply to her question, Redhead cleared her throat. She was leaning against the wall over by the hallway, and as Hiro's eyes flickered her way, she quirked an eyebrow. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she proceeded to press even further. "You've never 'needed a place to stay' before." she pointed out. And once again, Hiro looked away, one hand going up to clasp at the strap of his backpack a little self-consciously. The girl tilted her head at the movement, obviously more than curious. "So something had to change. Something made you scurry all the way down here— so what was it?"

The last two days weighed heavily on the boy's mind. The long, pointless hours spent sitting in that suffocating therapist office. The countless fights he'd had with Aunt Cass, and in effect the glares and stuffy silence Hiro had built against her. It all swelled against him, and he was reminded that if Tadashi was here, then this whole thing wouldn't be happening. The teenager shut his eyes tightly, cursing himself mentally. He took a long moment to reply, and when he finally did, he realized that subconsciously, the grip he held on the strap of his pack had increased tenfold. His knuckles were white and shaking slightly; the teenager had to force himself to relax before taking in a small breath. And when he spoke, half of himself was surprised at the sound of his own hollowed, almost indifferent voice. "She kicked me out." He said listlessly, in a small mumble.

Redhead took the words without any suspicion. "Who did; your aunt?" she asked, straightening off the wall with a small trace of surprise.

There was a small pause. Hiro took to staring at the couch as if it were far more important than it really was, observing every small stitch in the fabric and making note of every piece of frayed thread that was there as well. He bit down hard on his lower lip and felt his stomach seize. But he gave a small nod anyway, ignoring the way that each word spoken tasted like bile. "Yeah." he said, his words soft and muted as he shrugged his backpack up so that it was more secure on his shoulder. "She said that she...that she didn't know what else to do with me. And that she couldn't keep doing this anymore." He told himself that he wasn't lying— at least not really. Aunt Cass had said that she didn't know what else to do, and she had said that she was at a loss more than a few times when it came to her young nephew. So it wasn't a complete fabrication. Not all of it was, anyway.

Hiro knew that if he wasn't there, then Aunt Cass wouldn't look like such a wounded animal. And he also knew that if he left he wouldn't have to deal with more appointments, more medicine, more fighting and spitting and resentment. It was better this way; there wasn't even an argument for that conclusion. "I had no other choice but to leave." he rasped; somehow the certainty that he had done the right thing in his mind did not correlate to come through his voice, which remained unchanged. "…But I don't have anywhere else to go." He paused for a second before turning and looking over at Redhead fully for the first time. She still looked expectant— he guessed that she was waiting for the next part, which the boy was just now preparing to give. "I don't have much...but you won't even notice I'm here in the first place. I just need somewhere to stay for a little bit before I decide what to do."

There were options he could most likely take. But right now, tired beyond belief and just as irate, he didn't want to try and sort through the possibilities. All he wanted to do was curl up and away from everything. And as the thought crossed his mind, he reached up, tugging down Tadashi's hat so that the brim was lower over his eyes. Redhead still seemed a bit lost, her mouth slightly ajar as if she was halfway prepared to speak. But as the boy turned to listen to whatever it was, he was suddenly cut short.

In Hiro's pocket, the boy could feel a sudden vibration again his leg, and he stiffened as it dawned over him that he had made a small mistake; he hadn't left his phone at home. And now the device was ringing wildly in his jeans. Though still on silent, in the quiet of the apartment, the rushing, drum-like noise was more than apparent. Redhead's forehead creased at the call as her mouth shut, and Hiro's joints locked together. And, fearing rejection he knew he could not handle, he reached his hand into his pocket only to wrench it back quickly, fistfuls of money gripped in his fingers awkwardly as he extended it forward. "I have money." he said, repeating the few words he had said to her so long ago in order to set up their prior arrangement. Redhead stilled and perked visibly, and experiencing a small burst of hope, Hiro pushed on. "I can give you some for your trouble." he tried, knowing that if he was kicked out of here… "Along with everything else. It's only a few hundred, but…."

Redhead still kept quiet. Hiro's phone had rang itself out once he did not answer the call, but it seemed like as soon as the mobile stopped in its vibrations, it started right back up again. Another call was coming, and Hiro was torn on whether or not to pause for a moment just to see who it was. Was it Aunt Cass? The thought caused the boy to tense, one part of him becoming swamped with pain as the other, stronger half of him, curled back in anger. Trying to look past the conflicting emotions, Hiro forced himself to focus on the girl standing across from him, his breath catching in his throat as he realized that she was replying. And though she seemed a little bit askew over it all, the girl with the star tattoo gave a slow nod.

"…Okay." she reasoned after a long moment of consideration. Hiro jerked forward a little bit, halfway out of relief and halfway out of surprise that he had actually managed to get this far. "I'll let you hang here for a couple of days if you want." Redhead said with a slow nod. "I'm not here during the day though— I'm at work." Normally Hiro, a naturally curious person, would hesitate to either ask what her line of work was, or at least try and figure out a few possibilities himself. But now the sheer relief of being accepted, however reluctantly, swallowed up every other aspect of what was going on, and even the mention of her job did nothing but go right over his head. "But I guess you can hunker down here for that time. It's not like I've got anything against that. I don't have much to offer you, though." she said, her tone spiking in warning, as if she expected the boy to object with this.

But he was far from doing anything of the sort.

Instead he gave an almost eager nod. "I don't need anything." he said, meaning each word that slipped out from his mouth. "I'll be just fine; this is all that I want." And it was true, really. He wouldn't ask for food— the thought of it always caused the boy to feel sick and ill; he hadn't eaten a full meal in what felt like forever. That had been just one notch on the very long list of 'concerns' that Aunt Cass had claimed to have for him. He wouldn't ask for a bed or something comfortable to sleep on— he hadn't slept an easy night since the fire incident. And whatever night he did manage to sleep through came through the aid offered by downed bottles of alcohol or choked-back pills. And he had those already; he had stored all of it into his backpack before leaving. He was just fine. Perfectly okay. So he shook off the warning with little to no concern for himself— why should he have any?

Redhead nodded. She seemed still slightly on the fence, but not enough to draw out more answers from the boy. As it was, he was already vacant and a little more than absent. His eyes kept flickering over the room as if he was trying to commit the arrangement of the furniture to memory. And once he fell silent again, tight-lipped and quiet as he turned towards the window that was on the far right wall, she figured that it was as much of an ending as she was going to get. "Alright." she mused. "I'm going to turn in, then. If your Aunt kicked you out then you can stay here. But only for a little bit. I'm not going to get into trouble or anything just because I decided to help you." Hiro grimaced inwardly, but on the outside he remained just as dismissive. It wouldn't get that far; he knew it. Seeming to take the boy's silence as assurance that nothing was going to go awry, Redhead gave a small humming noise before asking: "So…is the couch okay?"

"The couch is great." Hiro said without even the smallest pause of contemplation. And, since more than the couple words were called for right about now, he added: "Thank you." He felt lighter than he had in what seemed like forever. Here he wouldn't be forced into anything, or pushed into situations that he didn't want to partake in. Here he wouldn't even have to hide away evidence like emptied glass bottles in every nook or cranny that he could find. He felt free and liberated and…happy. Fully happy; and with the way that it was looking, it seemed as if he could finally relish in the emotion without any restraint. This was better than he had first anticipated. A small smile worked over his tired and drawn face, and the boy hardly took note of Redhead as the girl said a few more things before turning down the hall and walking away.

Yet once he came out of his relieved stupor, the boy straightened, looking a little lost as he realized that he was alone now. He glanced over to the hall that branched away, pausing to try and decide whether or not he should try and call the girl back to thank her again. But he waved away the thought a few minutes after it occurred, figuring that it was fine the way it was. He had gotten more than enough money from the register back at home— he could offer to pay for trouble and still have a lot left over. Maybe he could go and purchase a ticket later to go towards— the boy stiffened, his train of thought snapping into an abrupt halt as, for probably the fourth time now, his phone began to ring again. Another call was coming through, and the boy shrugged off his backpack, letting it fall down to the ground with a dull thud.

Hiro twisted around, reaching down into his pocket and slipping out the mobile phone as a small frown crossed over his face. Sure enough the small thing was vibrating wildly in his hand, and as the boy stared down at the number across the screen, his frown only worsened. He should have known that the call would be from her— there were only two possibilities in the first place. Yet despite the fact that this was exactly what he had been anticipating, the series of numbers that registered in his mind caused a bitter kind of tear to go through his heart. He did not move, merely staring down blankly at the Caller ID as it continued to ring. Maybe she would give up after this one.

The call rang itself out again. And once the lit-up screen was swallowed once more in black as it shut off, it in turn plunged the entire room once more into darkness. In the dim light it seemed as if the sound of the fourteen-year-old's heart was amplified, beating against his chest and causing the blood to pound in his ears. Silence stretched on now that the sound of pulsations had died, and as a few minutes dragged by, Hiro was just beginning to hope that she would not try calling for a fifth time.

But he should have known that he would be wrong with that hope. After a long pause, his phone picked up again, and once more the Caller ID matched up perfectly. The teenager blinked, slowly looking up from the too-bright screen and towards the far wall instead. Outside the city was clear, and from down below the boy could see that late-night travelers were still passing by underneath, the glare of car headlights casting themselves through the glass and into the room every so often. And glancing down at the ringing phone clasped in his hand, Hiro casted a quick look back down the hall where Redhead had gone before going over to the window.

Biting down on his lower lip and holding his phone in a tight death grip, Hiro leaned over and unlocked the clasps holding the pane in place. Wriggling his fingers underneath the wood, he grimaced as he pushed upwards, taking a few seconds to force the window open all the way. Immediately, a freezing gust of wind pushed forward and struck the teenager square in the face, taking away his breath with the shock as he gasped in the back of his throat. A shiver lanced down his spin but the boy tried his best to look past the frigid weather, turning instead to look out over the dense city below him. The young boy glanced down at his phone and slowly slid his thumb across the screen. And lifting up the receiver to his ear, he waited.

Despite the late time that was on the clock behind him, Hiro could distinctly hear voices murmuring and speaking in the background on the other line. There had to be more than just one other person in the room wherever the call was taking place, but the small murmurings were swallowed up as a single voice began to travel into the speaker, hitting against the boy's ear and slamming into his gut with the amount of concern and barely-suppressed panic that rang throughout its tone. "Hiro?" It was Aunt Cass— the woman sounded far more than upset, and any other time Hiro would have become wracked with guilt over the way that his guardian's voice sounded so broken and shattered. But all Hiro could do was stare blankly, his eyes dead and unfocused as he watched the cars pass below in streaks of blurred yellow and white.

Even though he did not answer her outright, Aunt Cass moved on anyway. The woman's voice sounded as if she was speaking around a large lump in her throat as her voice came out muted and thick. "Hiro?" She asked again, demanding an answer from her nephew desperately. He could picture her stooped over the counter of the bakery, one hand drawing rapidly through her hair as she bent down low, her eyes closed as she pressed the phone flush against the side of her face. And here he was standing at the window of person's house, someone he didn't even know the real name of, staring out into the recesses of the city with an expression of complete apathy rested over his features.

"Hiro, sweetie, please." Aunt Cass went on, her voice wilting on itself at the lack of audible response. "Please tell me where you are, honey. You don't have to run away from all of this, Hiro; nothing will get easier if you do that. Please just come home; or at least tell me where you are. I can come and pick you up and we can just pretend that none of this ever happened, alright?" The voices that had been mumbling underneath Aunt Cass' voice had died off entirely now, as if whoever was there was now silenced in order to listen to what was going on. "I'll come and get you and everything will be fine. Okay? Oh sweetie, I'm not mad at you— I won't yell at you, I promise. You just have to tell me where you ran off to."

Why? So you can take me back home and force me back to a therapist? So you can take medicine I don't need and shove it down my throat? So I can be reminded day in and day out that things would be so much easier if I had died instead of Tadashi? The boy locked his jaw backwards as the thoughts rushed through his mind, a wave of bitterness rising up to choke at his throat. No— he couldn't go back home. He couldn't go back. Gripping the edge of the windowsill tightly enough to let the wood dig into his palm, the boy leaned forward, gritting his teeth painfully as he ducked his head. Temptation hung over the boy like dead weight to voice the thoughts cramming into his mind. But he knew that if he would even begin to utter a single phrase, he would not be able to stop. He would just get worse and worse, angrier and angrier in his words as he yelled and screamed; and a slip-up like that would cause Redhead to realize that he had been lying to her before. So, biting down hard on his tongue, he kept fixedly silent.

There was a burst of silence from the other end, and Aunt Cass' voice grew even thinner now as she forced herself to go on. "Hiro, I know you're there. Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on." Still, nothing. "…At least say something to let me know that you're okay." she pleaded softly, her words barely a small murmur now at the anguish-filled request. "I'm so worried…you're my little guy, honey, and I'm so scared that you're hurt or cold or…or, I don't know." Her words ended in a faint whimper, and there was a small rustling on the other end, as if she was shaking her head back and forth. "You just need to come home; don't you understand that? If you come home we'll work all of this out, I promise. You can come back and the medicine that I bought for you will help you to see sense. I know that you don't want to take them, and I hope you know that it hurts me so much to make you do something you don't want to, but it'll help you in the long run, Hiro, and that's all I want— is to help you."

If you really wanted to help me, you would leave me alone.

It was clear that the silence was starting to pain Aunt Cass deeply. "…sweetie?" she asked in barely even a croak as the single word sounded as if it was wrenched out from her throat. "…honey, please." The woman had been reduced to outright begging. "I just want my nephew back." There was a small noise on the other end, one that resembled either a sniff or a stifled sob. "…I can't lose you too, baby. Please don't make me have to go through all of this again. I just want you back home and I just want us to be a family again. I think we can do that…even with only the two of us left. …Don't you…?"

There was silence. Hiro's hands were shaking now, a tremor that spread across his body as he tried to remember how to stand upright. A wave of uncontrollable distress slammed into his gut, a sense of torment digging claws deep into his chest. As Aunt Cass brought up Tadashi, Hiro reached up, pulling down his brother's hat even further as he curled backwards in a sense of agony. He tried to stifle the pressure locked inside of his lungs, and in the effort to hold back himself as much as he could, he bit down hard on his lower lip, pain blossoming through his mouth as he tried to focus on that sensation more than the memory of his brother pressing in from the back of his mind.

There was no family— not without Tadashi. If he went back home there would still be that ragged hole in his heart left behind when his brother had been wrenched away from him. Whenever he was with Aunt Cass he would be painfully reminded that there was somebody missing. He would stay up every night staring over at Tadashi's bed and wishing that his brother was underneath the sheets. He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep pretending like nothing was wrong. Because it was— everything was wrong and nothing could ever get back to normal now that hid older brother was gone. His home had turned from comforting to suffocating, and if he stepped one foot back into that place he would collapse and break down entirely.

Before Aunt Cass could speak, before she could try to press in on him even further, Hiro ducked down, fitting his head through the window and leaning out precariously over the street a few stories below. Face burning and eyes pricking from the freezing wind, the headlights passing below became even more blurred as he looked straight down. The grip on his phone tightened, and he slowly brought the device away from his ear, holding fast to the windowsill as he stretched out. And bringing his arm back in a robotic fashion, the teenager acted without thinking.

There was a small murmuring; Aunt Cass was probably speaking again, but her words were muted now that Hiro's mobile was far away from his ear. He didn't want to hear anything more from her— he just wanted her to leave him alone. He wanted everyone to leave him alone. Feeling a tight sob work its way out from his clenched teeth, Hiro forced himself into motion before he could give himself the smallest bit of chance to rethink what he wanted. Launching his arm forward, the boy forced his hand to lose its grip on his phone, throwing the device down as hard as he could possibly manage. Once his other hand was free it went down to grip the windowsill as well, the boy's eyes streaming with tears he hadn't realized he'd been holding back as he watched the small rectangle, still lit up with the Caller ID of his aunt, spin away until it was shattered against the pavement far below.

The sharp crack that sounded once plastic met concrete seemed to reach the boy's ears even from how high he was, and his chest constricted tightly at the wrenching noise. For a few minutes he was frozen, his eyes hollowed out as he remained halfway out of the building, the boy wavering slightly with the effort to keep from tripping forward and completely over the threshold. After a long pause, the boy deflated, one hand straying up slowly as to press it flat against his forehead. A shaking exhale escaped parted lips, and a wave of dismay slowly filled him to the brim. What had he done? …What had he done?

'What you had to.'

The thought came with a sense of finality. A sense of finality that brought with it a cold feeling. Ice formed in the young boy's veins, and as he studied the phone that was now in pieces, he expected it to melt. But as he sank back into his hips and reached up to pull the window back down in its rightful spot, he found that it didn't thaw in the slightest. Locking the window and taking a step back to stare out the pane with an apathetic expression, he found that rather than dissolving away to leave him swamped in guilt or horror over what had just conspired, it did the exact opposite.

It only got colder.

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Work was nothing more than a distraction. Now, Wednesday, two days after Hiro's disappearance, it was all that it was faithful for. In dishing out hot beverages, in folding over pastries, and in tying up parcels of take-out, Cass could try and make believe as if everything was fine. As she lost herself in the touch of flour and the smell of layered icing, she tried to pretend that nothing was amiss. But she was painfully reminded of her plight whenever Honey Lemon sidled by, the young girl having offered her hand at running the store after her school let out in the attempt to try and help out the obviously-stricken woman. And she was reminded of the loss when she looked up towards the stairs, the steps empty and the lights turned off.

Though the bakery was always filled to the brim with passing customers, the entire building seemed empty— nothing more than a shell of its former self. Cass Hamada had assumed that her house was barren when Tadashi had left it, and that nothing could be worse than the silence that took place in the older boy's chair at the dinner table. But somehow the hole in the house seemed to grow and triple in size, gaping and painful as her only remaining nephew was stripped away as well. It was like a stab square in the heart; was she really destined to lose both of her little guys?

Every Regular that came up to the counter had the same look over their face, as if they had just witnessed Cass' puppy run away. When they spoke their voices were soft and careful, as if they were tip-toeing along a thin line, struggling to maintain their balance and trying not to tip over in either direction. "Are you holding up okay?" they would ask, with that same pinched look of sympathy over their face. After all, what other sort of emotion could be harbored when you looked at a woman who had lost her nephew a few months ago to a freak accident of a fire…and then just now lost her remaining one after the boy had just…vanished? "It'll be okay." some would try to reassure her. Or others would get right to the point. "Have they found him yet?"

To each and every voice that met her ears, Cass could only manage a deep grimace and a difficult shake of the head. She tried to respond, but she knew that if she even attempted to get out a single syllable, her throat would not cooperate and would only clench her words back down. Thankfully the others that broached these topics, even Mrs. Matsuda, were not offended over the rejection of conversation. They took her silence as answer enough and backed away before they could cause her any more pain. Which the baker was extremely grateful for.

Now, the bakery's activity had dwindled. Twilight was gathering outside, and as the crowd blinked away so did the duties that Aunt Cass had been relying on to sidetrack her wandering mind. Her hands were stilled in their dealing with baked goods, her fingers were halted in their typing on the cash register. The drone of background noise derived from the collection of patrons passing through the eatery came to a stop, and as the silence returned to hang itself heavily over the woman's shoulders, Aunt Cass was shaken out from her mental reveries, blinking rapidly as if she had been roused from a dream.

Honey Lemon was cleaning up after the most recent customers, a dampened rag in the blonde's hand as she scrubbed away grime and leftover crumbs. If she noticed that Aunt Cass was staring at her now, she didn't show any sign of it. The past few days the usually-bubbly girl had been greatly sobered— the whole group of friends had, really. While Honey Lemon spent her free time helping out at the bakery, Gogo spent hers checking in with the police, pushing the organization more and more for answers— a job that Cass was far too weary to uptake. Wasabi and Fred took walks or drives around the city helping to spread the word about Hiro and possibly catch a glimpse of her nephew. But sometimes, coming up with absolutely nothing, they reverted back to taking after Honey to help back at her house instead.

The kids, when they had come by in the past, had been bright and cheery. Even more so when they were with Tadashi; whenever Aunt Cass caught glimpses of the group they always wore beaming grins. And they seemed to routinely be laughing at some funny thing that another had said. Now they were the opposite. They looked tired with the amount of work they were putting in after school hours, and they were grave and quiet— even that goofy-looking one that normally wouldn't let you get a word in edge-wise. Yet as the thought crossed the woman's mind, her stomach clenched, and she wondered dismally if she was just as changed— if, to everyone else that looked at her, she was a ghost of her former self.

Standing here, realizing that dusk was settling over the city, a pang ripped at Cass' heart, and she ducked her head slightly, grimacing as she tapped her knuckles on the counter. It made a dull plinking noise against the surface, and Honey Lemon perked at this, looking surprised at the sudden interruption. The young girl straightened out as she looked over at the elder, hesitantly taking her hands away from the table, as if she was afraid that she had been caught doing something wrong. "You, um…" Aunt Cass winced a little tightly, and tried to focus her attention on her hands rather than the way her voice sounded rough in her dry throat. Hoping that the girl didn't pick up on her wounded tone, she swept on quickly as she closed her eyes. "You don't have to stay here." she said, trying to pass off her words in a breathy laugh, though the effort seemed to fail miserably. When the college student didn't reply, she added softly: "I may not know how hard college can be…but…you don't have to spend all your time here. You must have some kind of homework to work on, so…" she paused, biting down on her lower lip. "…please don't feel like you have some kind of obligation to stay here."

"I don't feel as if I have an obligation." Honey Lemon objected after a beat of silence. "I offered to be here and help you. And it's not like I don't have time to work through my homework when I get back to my house. You shouldn't worry about me— I like helping you. It's fun." she said with a small trace of a smile. Though the expression didn't fit the bags underneath her eyes, and it didn't help the weight that had settled inside of Cass' chest. The student looked back down, apparently finding the argument – if one could call it that – closed as she resumed her cleaning. But a frown was still etched into the woman's face, and she began to open her mouth, struggling to make the girl understand the aching sense of guilt that she felt in light of the way that she was taking up the girl's time. True, she appreciated the help immensely, she didn't know what she would have done without the assistance; but she simply could not bear the fact that she was spreading her issues in a way that put her burdens onto other peoples' shoulders.

However she was cut off before she could even get a single sound out of her mouth. The entrance of the bakery opened with a large swing, and Cass immediately shot up with an intense air at the sudden arrival of Gogo. The raven-haired girl looked a tad frustrated— more so than she normally was. Her face was puckered in a sour manner, but upon crossing the threshold of the doorway and realizing that Cass' eyes had immediately flown to her, the girl seemed to collect herself as she offered a little smile in her direction. "Oh— hi." she said after a small beat of hesitation, glancing over to Honey to see the blonde stooped over a new table that obviously had been left in a right state from the last people who decided to sit there. "Sorry I'm late." she huffed, a touch of her scowl returning as she seemed to hold back a sigh. "It took forever this time."

"N-No." Cass said quickly, shaking herself as quick as she could. "No, you're fine." She fell silent for a few seconds as Gogo made her way further inside. However, upon seeing that there was a newspaper tucked under the girl's arm, and feeling a jittering need to know, she cleared her throat before hedging forward. "Did you, um..." She reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, acutely aware of how awful it must look compared to the way that it usually did. "Did they find anything else?" Her voice faltered under the weight that the question entailed, and she grimaced on the mentally with the pathetic ring of her tone. But it was far too late for her to go back and fix it, and as nervousness clenched back her jaw, she habitually began to wring her hands together in front of her.

Gogo perked, coming to a stop on the other side of the counter. She paused a second, as if trying to come with a somewhat satisfying answer to the inquiry. But after her lapse she heaved out a small exhale, sighing as disappointment clouded over her features. "No." Cass wilted at the singular word, and Gogo winced a little bit. As if trying to make up for the unsatisfactory response, she looked down, wriggling out the newspaper from under her arm and looking up to hand over the compilation of sheets over to the Aunt. "But they did do this again." Her voice was a little wary, as if she wasn't sure what kind of reaction would be derived. "It's not much." she added quickly. "And I told them that— believe me. But I guess they got tired of me hanging around the station."

"Oh." The singular word was hushed now, fully deflated as its hope was drained away. But the guardian still attempted a genuine smile as she leaned over to accept the offering. She already knew what to expect when she opened up the pages to leaf through them. And there, its own little section resided in a spot similar to the few others ever since the night Aunt Cass' world had begun to turn down into a spiral. In black and white there was slightly grainy photo of Hiro, the small picture of the teenager grinning toothily up at the sorrowful woman. The photo had been the first one that Cass could find on such short notice late Monday night upon demand of the police. She could hardly remember when she had taken it— had it been after the boy had graduated High School? Had it been after the young boy and Tadashi had come from bowling late Saturday night? She found it heart-wrenchingly painful that she could not remember for the life of her.

In fine print below the picture of the smiling teenager was a collection of words that seemed hollow and dead to her.

'Missing! Hiro Hamada. Last seen Monday afternoon on the 22nd day of the 11th month of 2014. Fourteen years of age. Last wearing jeans and a dark-colored sweatshirt. If you see this boy, or if you contain any information on his possible whereabouts, please contact the San Franksokyo central police department.' From there the message melted away into combinations of far too many figures to keep track of, phone numbers and addresses and so much more bleeding into one another in a confusing mess. It looked exactly like the other had. The description varied in a few words and details, but mostly it was a mirrored copy.

Cass' emerald eyes were fixated on the small profile picture, her hands beginning to shake as the papers rustled softly in her grip. Her throat burned and ached as if she had been forced to swallow something vile. And surprisingly, there was only one prominent thought that stuck out among the haze of many others that had been pounding at her mind for what seemed like ages. She didn't notice the small tear that curved its way down her cheek until she heard a small murmur of concern from Honey Lemon, who had edged a little closer. The blonde's eyes were rounded out with worry over the woman, and, feeling a rush of heat go through her that did not help the water in her eyes to stop in its overflowing, Aunt Cass hurriedly reach up to swipe at her face.

She sniffed, pressing her hand tightly over her mouth as she inhaled sharply to try and stifle the emotions bubbling up to the surface. And, a grimaced kind of smile crawling over her face, the woman voiced the repetitive thought, trying to pass off her uneven breathing as laughter, though it came out tinny and false. And pathetic. "They, um…" She sniffed, wiping at her eyes hurriedly as she forced out a lame grin. "They really shouldn't use that picture…you know?" The two teenagers were silent, their faces creased over in concern. Neither of them replied, but Cass didn't really need an audible response in order to keep going.

"Nobody will recognize him that way." She went on, forced to put down the newspaper when she couldn't bear the sight of how much her hands were trembling. The picture smiled back at her, as if was enjoying the pain written across her face. How had it gotten this wrong? How had Hiro gone from hugging her one day to running away for days on end the other? If they never found him….or if something happened to him….she would never be able to forgive herself. To know that she was the one who had created the reason for him to leave home…to be the one that brought this situation forward...

"He looks too happy." She whispered, her words broken and shattered into a million different pieces. The two teenagers standing opposite of her looked pained by now, and they turned to exchange mirrored looks of pinched anguish. It was more than obvious that they didn't know what to do or say in response to such a heart-wrenching set of words; Honey Lemon, the more sensitive of the two of them by far, reached up and rubbed at her face in a fashion that suggested aloofness, but was probably more designed to wipe away tears before they could fall. As if sensing this change in demeanor, Cass cleared her throat, pushing away the newspaper with renewed force now as she took a small step backwards, trying to put as much distance in between her and the sheet as she could. "I'm sorry." The woman's voice failed her slightly as it caved inwards. "I didn't mean…" She shook her head. "Forget I said anything."

There was a long expanse of silence. Neither Gogo nor Honey Lemon seemed to have the courage to brave forward in order to shatter it. The clock ticked away and Cass inevitably took to staring off to the side, having a sense of vacancy to herself now as a bleakness rose up to fill her eyes. Gogo wilted at the sight of the bubbly woman so wrecked, and after allowing herself a small hesitation, the raven-haired girl broached the topic that was probably on everyone's mind. "What are you going to do tomorrow?" She asked softly, realizing that as the question escaped it probably would have been nicer to bar it away instead. Thanksgiving Break had started for them as of today— the holiday was technically less than twelve hours from this very moment in time, and school had been released all the way through this week. College students had been permitted to leave as of 2:45 P.M., and mostly that meant travelling to other places. People from all over would flock to meet up with family— to gather together and gorge on food on the excuse of having things to 'be thankful for.'

Holidays usually brought out the best in people, and yet looking at how ruined Cass appeared to be, Gogo would not be surprised at all if the baker hadn't even realized that tomorrow was.

The thought was confirmed as the brunette straightened, a momentary expression of confusion flitting over her face like a shadow. Honey Lemon perked at the inquiry as well, her eyes flickering in between the pair of them. She was probably drawn between chastising Gogo for the rather blunt question, and paying attention to the answer that Aunt Cass would give. The answer did come after a prolonged beat of silence, and as Aunt Cass' eyes cleared with the realization of the exact date, she seemed a little surprised, as if the number had snuck up on her and frightened her with its suddenness. "…Oh…" Her voice was nothing more than a small mumble, and Gogo had to pay attention in order to make out her words. "….I didn't even realize…."

"Do you want some help?" Honey Lemon volunteered her hand abruptly, and the shorter girl beside her had to hold back a small flash of surprise at the ready offer. However the idea and the implication that it brought along was appealing, and a small smile flitted over her face as Honey wrung her hands in front of her with a touch of nervousness. "I've never really baked a turkey before, but I could make everything else. I've got an amazing recipe for mashed potatoes, and I could totally research a few recipes for—"

"No; no." Aunt Cass was speaking before Honey Lemon could even finish. Her words were adamant though her face was anything but, and as the younger girl broke off, looking a little startled at the premature interruption, her expression softened with a sense of vain gratitude. "Thank you. But— no, I couldn't bring myself to trouble you all during Thanksgiving. You've done enough for me; you enjoy your break." She paused for a second, her smile growing a little bit forced as she added in what was probably meant to be an upbeat tone: "Things probably won't change from the way they are now. Not with tomorrow being…what it is." She gave a small cough. "So you won't— so you won't be missing anything important."

Honey bit down on her lower lip, blatantly unsure. Gogo took up the effort, turning and glancing over at her friend a little briefly before asking: "Are you sure?" Aunt Cass didn't reply, and she tried again. "I mean, we wouldn't want you to be…" 'All alone.' The words were originally meant to be added audibly, but in the face of voicing the syllables, Gogo found that she couldn't get them past the wall of her teeth. It was enough to be going through the first real holiday since Tadashi's death— going through the motions of the festivities would have been painful enough for the guardian with the knowledge that her older nephew was not there to take his spot at the table. But whatever pain would have been inflicted with that idea would be tripled in the face of Hiro's sudden disappearance. Now Aunt Cass would be completely abandoned. The thought was already harrowing enough— to have a holiday hanging over that was like icing on a very unwanted cake.

"I'm sure." Cass' voice was stronger now as she said this with a small nod. She turned and looked down at the newspaper, folding up the stack and tucking it away behind the straw dispenser. Probably because she could not bear to look at the black-and-white face of her nephew beaming up at her. "I don't want you two girls to be worrying over me when you could be enjoying yourselves. Go and have fun— don't let me ruin it all."

Gogo attempted to object. "Miss Hamada; Hiro was our friend. We're worried about him just like you are. You shouldn't think that just because—"

"Please." The one word was all but spat out of from the woman's mouth, causing Gogo to come to a sudden stop in her plea. The raven-haired girl snapped her mouth shut at the interjection, but there was no sign of resentment on her face from the cut. Instead she looked solemn, and as Cass went on, realization dawned that there was no sense in trying to push their point any further. Honey Lemon seemed to grasp this notion as well as the blonde made no move to speak either. Cass reached up to tuck a lock of hair securely behind her ear, though the efforts were less focused on the way she looked and more for the purpose of wanting to do something with her hands as she heaved out a heavy exhale. "I just…I feel so bad." The words were just as quiet as the others had been if not more so. "Having you all here is wonderful and I'm so grateful…but I don't want to take up all of your time. I don't want to take your Thanksgiving." Before either of them could even try to think of something to say in response, she was backtracking. "At the very least, go have fun tomorrow for my sake. I can keep you posted if you like, but please just go on your break. I feel so bad when you're all working hard like this for me."

It was understandable in the very smallest sense of the word. And the request, when you really thought about it, wasn't all that hard to comply to. The worry and concern instilled inside the entire group of friends for Aunt Cass had fostered over the course of these seemingly-never-ending days since Hiro had gone away. And a day away from the bakery, a day of leaving the woman alone with her thoughts and another day in which something could happen to Hiro wherever the young boy had gone to find himself would probably only cause the worry to expand. But if this was what would help Cass, even in this small way, then there wasn't really any question. They were there not only to try to find Hiro and help their friend, but also to offer aid to his guardian as well.

"If that's what you want." Honey Lemon was the first of the two to reply now, though with her response it was clear that they turned out to be on the same page. Aunt Cass didn't reply, and the blonde reluctantly took that as a silent affirmation as she moved on. "We can be back Friday though, or during the weekend. If they haven't found Hiro then, of course." She added this quickly, as if she realized how her words could be taken in the wrong fashion. "Because we do want to help you to find him. …If that's okay with you."

Cass offered them a weak smile and a nod at this. Then, glancing at the clock, she coughed quietly in the back of her throat. "It's getting pretty late." There was a frown on her face as she looked at the time. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that late at all; it was only about 6:30 in the evening. However upon looking at the ticking hands, Cass couldn't help but wonder with an aching feeling carving itself into her chest where Hiro was and what he was doing. It was getting darker earlier and earlier each night— did he have light where he was? It was getting colder with each passing day— was he warm enough?

She would trade anything in the world just to have that minimal slice of knowledge. To know that her nephew was safe wherever he had gone. Whether it was paranoia or bias, she told herself that the chances were slim. And inevitably, she thought back to the phone call she had made to him— the last one that she had been able to do. Her incessant worrying had spilled out from her mouth like water as soon as she had realized her call had been answered. Now her heart ached over the ordeal. Hiro hadn't even responded to any of her questions or concerns. He hadn't reacted to any of her promises that things could get better. No matter what she said and no matter how she said it the other line was completely silent the entire way through. Until there was a sudden loud slam, and the line had been disconnected.

She had tried calling back. She called the boy again and again— twenty times.

Nothing. It didn't even go through.

…Had she really caused this? Had her actions through the course of Sunday to Monday night really changed things so drastically to turn out this way? The woman locked back her jaw trying to push away the thoughts before they could begin to fester inside of her mind like a disease. Instead she shook herself, going on with her train of thought as she smiled kindly at the girls. "You two had better get heading home. You've done a lot for me already— go enjoy your time off from school." The pair still looked unclear on what they should do, even with this given order. But after a few moments they came to their own conclusions that this would have to be good enough. Honey Lemon weaved around the counter to fetch her bag where she had stored it after coming home from school. Waiting for her, Gogo began to say a few words— probably something along the lines of a goodbye along with a few more offers of help starting up again on Friday.

But Cass paid little attention to what was being said. The baker merely stood at the counter of her store and watched as, with a few waves and calls of goodbye, her two helpers retreated out the main door. She recalled the many times that Tadashi had come in with this band of friends, usually right after school as they nabbed treats and freshly-baked goods to scarf down together. They were so bright and cheery, she remembered. And now, after everything that happened, the teenagers were drawn and quieter now, more solemn and grave whenever they walked through the door. It was a heartbreaking thing to come to terms with, and it was only furthered by the knowledge that her nephew, who had rushed away in such a surprising turn of events, was probably unaware of how much his being gone was affecting them all.

Against herself, she wondered what would be happening right now if Hiro had managed to get over the death of his brother in a similar manner that Cass had. What would be happening at this very moment in time if he had picked himself up from the ground and gone to attend school? Would he have raced home from college just a few hours ago, face flushed bright pink from the cold weather as he slammed down his backpack, rattling off facts about his day and eagerly asking what they were going to do for dinner tomorrow night? It was impossible to try and picture the scene. All she could remember was her nephew limp in the bathtub, convulsing and shivering, completely unresponsive to her frantic shouts.

Cass blinked a few times, coming out of her stupor and realizing that once the two young girls had left, she was alone in her bakery. The tables were wiped off completely and the chairs were empty and pushed in thanks to Honey Lemon's generous hand at cleaning. Looking down and trying to avoid the sight of the newspaper that was still poking out from the dispenser, Cass leaned over instead to open the cash register. It was a fact that she had hidden from the two that had been here today, and one that she had decided not to tell the police either. And now, staring down at the contents inside that had been significantly depleted, Cass felt a sinking feeling drown itself in the pit of her stomach. She wouldn't tell anybody about her missing money, because she knew exactly who had taken it— they were the only possible suspect on the list, really. And once Hiro came back – and he would come back, he had to come back – she wanted no more hard feelings between them. She wanted him to know that if he returned there would be no grudges or pain in between them like before. So no— she did not go to the police to report her stolen funds.

Feeling a pain begin to throb in the center of her head, she reached up to try and rub it away tenderly. "…Oh, Hiro." Cass whispered, her voice small and wavering in a sign of her rapidly-growing weakness. The baker wondered when the burning, prickling sensation in her eyes had become a sort of second nature— had it became so familiar to her once Tadashi had died in the fire? Or had it been derived out of the mess that was taking place now?

"Please come home."

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Loud music blasted overhead, a strong bass causing vibrations to lance up and down the young boy's spine. Though mostly the vibrations came across more as shivers, and as the thought crossed his mind he stifled another, ducking his head down to tuck his nose underneath the cloth of his hoodie. But to his disappointment, the material was thin, and the effort offered little to no warmth at all. So, hissing out a noise of frustration, he straightened and turned to look around a little aimlessly.

He had wandered farther than he normally did tonight. Usually he kept close to Redhead's place; he didn't really need to go anywhere else, really. But, trying to avoid becoming full-out stir-crazy, Hiro had decided that tonight he would venture out to walk the streets. Redhead had left, presumably to go to work. He had no idea where that was or what she did, and he hadn't felt the need to ask. All he knew was that, if he was going off of any kind of recorded history, she wouldn't be back for hours. Which led him to here— standing outside a random restaurant downtown, watching as people flowed in and out of the building and listening to the overly-loud music that was being pumped out of some stereo for the means of entertaining those waiting for a table. Or, in Hiro's case, those who were just looking for somewhere to linger.

Every exhale from the boy came out of his mouth in a puff of fog, rising up to furl into a cloud before disappearing altogether. It was freezing now that the sun had ducked out below the horizon, and Hiro's nose was so red it could probably outshine Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer's. Every so often when people would exit out of the restaurant, a hint of heat from the air conditioning would take the edge off of the cold for the briefest moment, but once the door was swung shut again it just accentuated the fact that it was nearly eighty degrees cooler outside than it was in.

He had told himself that he wouldn't let such a trivial fact like the temperature get to him. So, braced against the freezing winds that would buffet him to the side occasionally, the teenager had taken a seat down against the wall of the brick building, his back flush against the stone as he drew his knees up to his chest. He had taken a seat so that he was a distance away from the crowd of people waiting for a table, but he was close enough to hear the thrumming drone of many conversations going through the mass. To his far left was the entrance of the eatery, and to his much-nearer right was a large trash can that, probably by the end of the night, would be overflowing with uneaten remains of a variety of dishes.

Turning and reaching back, Hiro delved into his pocket, fingers grasping for the smooth rectangle that he had tucked away hurriedly on his way out a short time ago. And with the smooth touch of metal came the feel of a plastic box as well, and with a small touch of relief he brought out a box of cigarettes and a small blue lighter. He had purchased the items via Redhead Tuesday night, more out of curiosity than anything just to see if he could manage another smoke after choking and gagging on the first. However what started out as simple curiosity had undoubtedly grown— out of all that came initially, only two sticks were left once he lifted up the flap.

Reminding himself that he had to offer Redhead more money – without checking he just figured that whatever amount would come without any kind of consequence – he shook out one of the white sticks gingerly before wriggling the box back into his pocket. Striking the lighter and holding the cigarette up to the open flame, the young teenager watched with an air of caution as the end slowly caught fire and began to burn gradually. The smoldering end of the thing, however small and insignificant, gave off a small aura of heat, and Hiro tucked in closer to himself as he ducked down, bringing it up to his lips as he shoved the lighter out of sight again.

While inhaling smoke in large quantities had at first caused him to choke and heave, now it was as simple as….well…breathing. For lack of any better relation. Each inhale in caused his throat and chest to constrict and burn, yet now instead of cringing into the sensation, he merely leaned into it. Each exhale came out easier than the last with more smoke brought into his body, and the longer he sat puffing against the wall the more relaxed he became. And that was all he had needed anyway— he had just needed to relax. Not to mention the fact that the smoke caused the boy to forget about the cold that was biting through the layers of his clothes and causing him to tremble and shiver. Instead he could feel almost warm; or at least he could try and make believe that he was.

Sitting there towards the side of the restaurant, Hiro forced himself to take in even, controlled breaths. The teenager sat quietly as his mind began to unwind and slow down, the only sound that the boy uttered being low sighs once the inhaled smoke was too much to hold in. If the people waiting for their tables a few feet away from him noticed his loitering they didn't show it. But with how small the boy appeared – stick-thin and curled into such tight a ball – he wouldn't be surprised if he had completely slipped under their radar, either. And somehow the thought was comforting— not to be noticed. He was just another shadow, something to be overlooked rather than studied closely or sorted through. And that was exactly how he preferred it all.

He had left home days ago. Fleeing from the bakery and all that it entailed, such as therapist visits, forced medication, and harrowing fights back and forth, he had taken refuge instead in the deepest part of San Franksokyo. The past two – soon to be three – days had been more than what the boy had needed. He was not judged here and he was not stared at as if he had done something shameful. He had been allowed to freely help himself in the only effective way that he knew how without any kind of obstacle. And even though he had to compensate as well for the living space, staying with Redhead made it so much easier to get the things that he needed. Cognitive thought – the kind that he was slowly beginning to despise more and more for all that it brought along with it – had been blurred the past something-odd hours by excessive drinks or pills or something along those lines. Though there was a splitting headache ringing throughout the boy's skull, his mind was paradoxically at more peace than it had been in what felt like ages. And as if he was trying to encourage the sensation, Hiro reached up to take another long pull from the cigarette he held almost expertly in between two fingers.

He started to reach back into his pocket to pull out his phone and check the time. He wasn't sure the exact number but he knew that it was probably getting pretty late. Not to mention that he was slowly freezing over the longer he sat against the stone, which only seemed to pull his body heat out faster. But his hand came up short, and his shoulders drooped as realization dawned over him slowly. The boy blinked, having to concentrate in order to try and figure out where his mobile had gone. His mind, scrambled and scattered from its misuse with the drugs and alcohol, was slow and sluggish as it reached out blindly for some kind of answer. And once he landed on it, Hiro straightened, the smallest hint of a frown touching over his features as he recalled the way that he had thrown his phone out of the window on sheer impulse. Yes— that was right. He'd thrown it out the window. It wouldn't be in his pocket anymore. He wasn't even sure if its remains were still on the pavement below Redhead's apartment anymore. Probably not.

Blinking rapidly and shaking his head as if to clear his mind, Hiro felt a small tug of concern over his mental lapse. However brief, he'd never had one of them before. Thought came to him as easily as music notes would a composer. Or at least….they had before. But as the niggling thought wormed its way worryingly into his head he dismissed it as quick as he could. He was just tired— he hadn't slept in days. And his stomach was caving in on itself by now it was so hungry; the last thing he had eaten was a bagel Monday morning because Aunt Cass had forced him to. So, pulling out the last few inhales from the cigarette he held gently, Hiro began to get up to his feet, his head swooning and spinning at just this slight movement. .

However once he was halfway to his feet, doubled over at the waist, the boy was stopped short. From the trash bin that mostly held food and useless take-out boxes, something else was poking out that seemed oddly out of place. Turning and glancing uncomfortably back at the people gathered outside a few yards away, Hiro walked over and skirted around the thing, keeping his head low as he reached over to try and see what it was. He didn't know why he felt the sudden urge to loot around the trash. Maybe it was the smallest bit of himself, the part of his old self that he had managed to retain and stuff deep down inside, that was coming forward, still curious about everything around him and wanting to solve whatever was on display. Or maybe it was just the opposite— maybe he was just so far gone and rendered so desolate that he had stooped down to the lowest level of trash looter.

Taking pick, maybe the first option was a tiny bit better.

It was a newspaper. Thin sheets of paper and small fine print was enough to show what it was, yet that wasn't the idea of the thing that had suddenly caught the boy's attention. No— it was the picture. It was….his picture.

The boy's joints locked together at this, and his grip tightened quickly to wrinkle the thin pages of the paper. He went rigid, and his eyes slowly rounded out as he stared down at the thing. There were mingling expressions of horror, surprise, confusion, and even anger battling in their depths, however it was all he could do to remain still and stare down numbly. His own face stared back at him— an older picture that had him smiling like some kind of gap-toothed idiot. And below the small picture, words were lined up neatly: Missing! Hiro Hamada. Last seen Monday afternoon on the 22nd day of the 11th month of 2014. Fourteen years of age. Last wearing jeans and a dark-colored sweatshirt. If you see this boy, or if you contain any information on his possible whereabouts…

What was this!? A missing person's report!? No! No— now, that couldn't be right. Hiro looked up from the newspaper, his eyes flashing now with a different kind of emotion as he looked over towards the mass of waiting people, who were now beginning to grow frustrated over the lack of service that they were receiving. And looking from the paper to them, Hiro wondered dismally how many people still read this kind of stuff. How many people had seen this information? How many people had passed it along to their friends or family? Word spreads in a city as densely populated as this; even if only a handful of people paid attention to this kind of stuff there was still opportunity for it to spread. And was he in more places? Was this same stupid picture posted online? In Malls? On the sides of freaking milk cartons? …Had Redhead seen this?

Hurriedly, the boy turned and stuffed the newspaper back where he had found it, this time burying it further down into the trash, as if that would help him in some way. His stomach became knotted and twisted as he shook his head, attempting to clear it as he swallowed this new piece of information. Formulaic, he struggled to figure out what he could do in light of this, but really he could come up with nothing. What else was he supposed to do but retreat back the way that he had come? He hadn't been gone long at all – only about a few hours – but that fact was beside the point. He knew without a doubt now that he had get back. How many other people had read this? He turned and cast his gaze back towards the main street were people had taken to congregating. And now rather than feeling indifferent towards the crowd, he felt instead a strong pull of anxiety.

Having stored the newspaper away so that it was hidden from view fully, Hiro reached back and pulled up the hood of his jacket, ducking his head so that it too was shielded away. He dropped his burnt-out cigarette, stomping it into the ground only briefly before turning on his heel and slouching the way he had come. In his mind he mapped out the route that would take him to Redhead's the quickest. He hadn't come very far in the first place— at the most it would turn out to be maybe a thirty minute walk. But here in downtown, especially once he hit the apartments, the buildings were closely situated together. It all ended up bleeding into one eventually, so that managed to take away a good shred of the distance.

The boy's steps were hurried now, and their speed only increased as more and more apprehension dug into him. He was probably over-thinking things, yet recently paranoia was easy to settle underneath his skin. His heartbeat thudded alongside the throbbing beats of the music still playing over too-loud speakers, and as the boy shouldered his way through the crowd of waiting people, his shoulders were tense and rigid. And as more time passed the panic that was growing inside of him began to gnaw at his nerves, which were already more than shot. Inside of his pockets his hands began to shake, yet he tried to appear as nonchalant as possible on the outside. He was overthinking things, surely? It was just one small ad. People could have skipped over it or just outright ignored it. …Right?

A missing person report. Anger and biting rage burned underneath the boy's skin as the words lingered in the back of his mind. 'How could you be so stupid?' Hiro admonished himself repeatedly, his jaw locked backwards as he tried to focus on which way he was walking. 'You should have thought of something like this happening. Some all-knowing genius— you can't even see something two freaking feet in front of your nose. You idiot. Look at where you got yourself this time. Some plan.'

Hiro's pace had increased tenfold as the thoughts swarmed and crowded his mind. And abruptly, paying no attention at all to his surroundings and focusing solely on the way that would take him back to Redhead's apartment, the teenager jerked around to cross the street. His eyes were trained on his converse rather than the road as he began to walk with enough speed to cause him to trip over his own heels. Showing a brilliant display of thick-headedness, Hiro should have looked up just slightly to try and check the expanse before braving it. Or he should have at least jerked to attention at the sound of screeching brakes. But the young boy was so wrapped up in his own haywire emotions and dark mutterings underneath his breath that he was completely oblivious to whatever else was going on.

That is until he got hit.

A sudden force slammed itself square into the boy, intense pain wrapping around his entire lower body as he was brusquely flung to the side. He hardly had the chance to cry out in pain before his body made contact with the pavement in a shattering slam. Like a ragdoll he was thrown and rendered limp; even after he had been shoved to the ground, he did not move. Still as a statue, his body filled with shock at the unexpected blow, and the boy found that moving came across as impossible. His head was splitting, a stabbing sense of pain in his temple marking the spot that his skull had collided with the ground. A small ringing sound vibrated painfully in his crown, and the boy's forehead creased in pain, the teenager curling into himself as an agonized groan escaped through tightly-clenched teeth.

Twin spots of yellow glared down on him a mere few inches away, and the sound of a car's engine was choked once Hiro skidded against the concrete. He grimaced, trying to turn and push himself up. But at the slightest hint of movement his body screeched in objection, a whimper escaping the boy as agony wrapped a tight vice around every part of him. From the back of his mind he registered the sound of a door slamming shut, accompanied with a series of pattering footsteps that got closer and closer. Upon the realization, the teenager's struggles to stand increased, and he managed to shift himself onto all fours, crouched in a slightly shaking heap as he paused. Breath had been driven out of his body entirely from the collision, and as he crouched, he tried to heave for air that refused to filter into his lungs.

There was a touch against his shoulder, light and cautious. Thankfully his body did not react sharply in response to the pressure— his shoulder came out mostly unscathed. And once the ringing in his ears subsided, he realized that whoever had rushed out of the car was talking to him. "…okay?" It was the voice of a female— a woman that was probably middle-aged. Her voice was filled with worry and concern, along with a little bit of guilt. Well of course there was guilt there— hadn't she just plowed into him with her car? When he didn't reply, too focused on trying to draw in air, she pressed further. "Are you okay? Ohmiggosh, I am so sorry. I just didn't see you— you rushed into the street so quick and I couldn't stop before it was too late! Oh, you look awful. Let me help you, please. Here, let me help you."

There was a pressure on his wrists as the woman grabbed hold, and gradually, helping the young boy along, she started to stand back up along with him. Hiro's legs bent and wavered as weight was applied to them, and his head reeled as he stood upright. He ducked his head down, managing to get a little bit of his wind back as he took in a wheezing inhale that rasped against his throat. He could feel blood seeping through his jeans, and as he put weight on his left ankle, fire wrapped around his leg. Immediately he adjusted to try and keep weight off of the injury, leaning to the side severely as another gasp of pain wrenched its way out of his vocal cords.

"Oh, you poor thing. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." The woman blustered, sounding frazzled. Hiro did not look up to meet her eyes, keeping his head down instead and out of view. He tried to take his arms back, but whoever this was must have deemed him unfit to keep his own balance, because their grip was still a tight vice. "You look awful— let me take you to the Hospital. I'll drive you there. Do you have to go to the Hospital? What's your name? Can I call someone for you? Can I call your mother? Your father? I just feel so bad, oh my goodness."

She was fumbling over herself trying to make things right, but as each offer was handed over, and as Hiro's head cleared bit by bit, he realized that he couldn't stay. Despite the fact that it felt like little needles were imbedded into his skin, the boy could only focus on one aspect. And that was, if he looked up to this woman, would he be recognized? Did she read the paper? If he told her his name, would she make the connection? If he went to the Hospital, would the doctors call the closest relative, which would end up being Aunt Cass? With more force than he thought was possible, he wrenched his arms back to himself, swaying wildly on his feet as his hands went down instead to wrap over his stomach, as if he was trying to hold himself together.

"I'm fine." When he spoke, his words were tightly clenched in badly-concealed pain. There was a small murmur of objection from the woman, but he paid no heed as he turned, already starting to walk away as he kept his head down. His injured ankle creaked in severe discomfort as he put weight on it, so he adopted a hobbling sort of gait that came across as sad if not outright pathetic. "I'm fine— don't worry about it." he choked.

To his surprise the woman seemed to try and flag him back down. "No! No, wait!" Hiro hunched his shoulders and continued on, going a little faster which added onto the hurt radiating up and down his figure. "You need to get to the Hospital! I-I'll register you, it's okay! I can even pay for it! Please just— come back!" By now probably all eyes within twenty feet of them had turned to train onto the scene unfolding, and Hiro bit down in panic at the idea. He had to get back to Redhead's apartment. He just had to.

So he ignored the calls of whoever had just crashed into him. And despite the agony wrapped around his ankle he rushed away as quickly as he possibly could. He kept his head down, hiding away from prying eyes he could feel burning holes through his hoodie. His nerves, frayed beyond repair by this point in time, were shot entirely as his pace was slowed, and his hands clenched and fisted in a form of a tremor as he tried to push himself. He struggled to breathe through the needle-like pain inflicted with each step. Every so often, overcome with the sensation, a choking cry would leak out pitifully through his closed mouth; and like a frightened animal, he flinched away from every person that he passed, struggling to keep his face away from any and all eyes possible.

A small part of himself cringed. The little voice in the back of his mind deflated.

'What happened to you?' it whispered.

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A few pills had been all that it took. A few small, rounded capsules choked down and everything stopped. The smoldering pain in his ankle, which had grown into a raging inferno by the time he'd gotten back up to Redhead's place, subsided gradually. The tension in his head as well as his shoulders receded, and the boy's body, however unwillingly, relaxed into a vacancy void of any if not all thought or sensation in general. Hiro had slumped down in the corner, eyes half-lidded and face wiped of expression as he faded in and out of attention. Redhead had still been gone by the time Hiro had limped upstairs; that or she was in her own bedroom asleep. The boy hadn't really cared to find out the answer to that question really— all that mattered was he was still alone by definition.

Now, slouched in a halfway-sitting, halfway-standing-up position, the teenager's expression was fuzzy and glazed over. Like moving a heavy weight, Hiro turned and looked down into his lap. In opening his backpack to fish out the required escape, he had ended up just dumping out its entirety, the advertisement in the newspaper and then the run-in with the car having put him into a panicked frenzy of anger. And now in his lap sat the thing that he had nearly forgotten he had brought along. In fact, especially with the way that the pills were messing with his thought process, he couldn't even remember why he had stuffed it into the pack in the first place. Or why he had kept it out in this moment.

But despite the motivation or reason, the boy was left starting down at the framed picture that had been taken many years ago on the San Franksokyo bridge. He stared at Aunt Cass hugging Tadashi close, the way that his older brother, younger back then, grinned widely from ear to ear as he glanced back towards the older woman. Hiro's grip on the edges of the picture frame clenched tighter as he looked at what seemed to be the perfect family. His thoughts, albeit slurred and disjointed, were bitter and barbed as they filled each crevice of his mind. His eyes were narrowed into slits and his vision was blurred and smeared as water began to crowd its way forward. Throat burning much like his ankle had been before, the fourteen-year-old's stomach felt like it was being squeezed from all different directions.

How was this fair in any sense? His muddled thoughts clashed and collided in a confusing manner in his mind. Tadashi should still be here. That stupid fire. He shouldn't have built those stupid robots. He should have gone with the others after the Showcase, even if it meant rejecting Tadashi's request to talk with him one-on-one. He shouldn't have even entered that stupid Showcase. If he hadn't, Tadashi would be alive— Tadashi would be here. And that was all he wanted…he would give anything and everything just to have Tadashi back…just to have his older brother back…that was all he could ever want…

As his thoughts grew more morose, in contrast his grip got harder and harder. The boy's hands shook with the amount of pressure he was applying to the frame, and as he brought the thing closer to his chest, his grip began to waver and bend. And before too long, in the absent mindset that he adopted once he swallowed back those capsules, there was a sudden series of snaps that sliced through his clouded haze of indifference. The boy stilled for a minute, having to process through the noise a few times before he made the connection, leaning back and looking down slowly.

It had been shattered. Cracks that resembled intricate weavings on a spider web had etched their way into the glass that had kept the photo in place. And as he brought the thing back and away from his chest, there was a series of sharp plinks as the web began to disintegrate, small shards of glass falling out from the frame and hitting the ground with almost metallic thuds. After a few seconds of empty silence, so did the picture as it dropped from his now-slack hands.

Hands shaking, the boy raised them up to press against the sides of his head, his eyes rounded out as he stared at the mess with almost disbelief. The picture….the picture would be ruined. Without the glass covering it…it wouldn't last very long at all. Turning and looking down at the smiling picture that contained the image of his brother, he felt a strong sense of surprising anger kick him square in the gut. Trembling with the emotion, he shook his head groggily, lurching forward unevenly and trying to gather up the mess. He had to fix it…he had to fix it before Redhead saw. But more importantly he had to fix it before the picture could get too damaged or affected. His garbled mind spluttering with the sheer effort, the young child felt frustration build like acid on the back of his tongue as the efforts proved fruitless. There were too many miniscule shards of glass that wouldn't fit no matter how hard he tried. Piecing them together would be the equivalent to trying to sort a needle out of a haystack.

Feeling the slowly-rising bubble of defeat grow bigger and bigger, he waited for it to pop. And as it did, the boy sat back onto the balls of his feet in a kneeling position, his face falling as he felt his heat sink. Biting down on his tongue, the boy curled back his fingers into a gesture of bitter anger. But no sooner had he done that did jolts of stinging pain interrupt his faded thinking process as he realized that he had still been holding the bits of glass in the palms of his hands when he had curled them into fists. Hissing, Hiro immediately jerked back, his eyes wide with shock from the unexpected stabbing. And as he stared down at his palms, he watched with a numb expression as blood welled out in thick gushes from seemingly-nonexistent scratches. Red oozed forward and in no time at all began to leak down from his palms to his wrists, dark stains dying his skin instantly.

He expected to feel a jolt of panic at the sight of so much blood. But the boy was transfixed, hardly reacting to the spectacle at fist. But after a few minutes, the blood having started to stain the already-dark sleeves of his sweatshirt, the boy's breathing hitched. His skin stretched and pulled in a painstaking manner as he readjusted his grip on the slivers of crystal. Red was smeared over the once-transparent sliver, and his hands trembled violently in the face of the gore marking its way down his limb. But still he didn't even make a move to get up and try to stop the flow. Instead he felt a gathering sense of bile bursting forward in the back of his stomach, and he locked back his jaw, the water in his eyes leaking forward as a sense of frustration and rage.

His mind was already hindered thanks to the chemicals induced by the pills he had taken, and now that this new overflow was taking place, cognitive and rational thinking completely disappeared into oblivion. It just wasn't fair. None of it was. Tadashi was gone and now this stupid picture and he just couldn't believe… Without hesitation, because he was without clear mind, he hunched forward, curling down and hiking up the sleeve of his hoodie. His hand clenched again and, seeing the red that already tracked its way down his arm, he pressed the jagged, broken edge down deep into his skin.

He hardly noticed the pain. Not at first. All he could feel was wretched anger and sadness— guilt and horrible horrible agony. He missed Tadashi. He missed Aunt Cass. He missed his old life. And he wanted it back— oh God, he wanted it back so much. But he couldn't. He couldn't because everything was so different now, and as he slashed and tore at his own skin, he tried to picture those feelings and that sorrow leaking out alongside the blood. This went on for what seemed like ages. Each tear and lash seemed to make the seconds stretch even longer. And by the time that his mind managed to scrape itself back together, the boy found that his breaths were shallow and uneven— more of a hyperventilation. His back had been pressed flush against the wall somewhere in the process, and as he struggled to get his breathing controlled from its erratic pattern, he stared down foreign at what he had done.

The glass shard was coated entirely in the rusty color. Up and down his arms were deep gashes that made patterns similar to a ladder or railroad tracks. But these fine lines were nearly swallowed by the gore that had been made in effect, an entire film of dark scarlet spreading quicker than he anticipated over his skin. He had expected a color of pink or at the most red— he did not predict this shade of outright black. For almost a minute he just stared blankly, his mind attempting to snap into motion and function as he just gazed at the carnage. The splinter of glass he had used to achieve this sight tumbled out of his hand to fall with the other smaller pieces, a dark sheep amid the white flock.

From the foggy corner that his mind had been lost in, it slowly began to get reeled in as the shock wore off. Pain of every kind commenced forward, the gashes he had made in his skin throbbing and pulsating with their own heartbeats. He hissed as the prickling rose in volume and intensity, and he slowly began to tremble from head to foot. Abruptly he put his hands down on the ground, pushing himself up a little bit too fast. He was reminded of his injured ankle as it gave way underneath the forced weight, the teenager crying out as he quickly tried to shift back to his better one.

Blood was hot and sticky on his forearms, and as he stood up, he could feel the liquid drip down the length of his limbs. Not knowing what else to do in this situation and unable to think clearly though it himself, he crossed his arms over his stomach, pressing the array of wounds hard into his shirt in the hopes that it might staunch some of the bleeding. And, walking blindly, Hiro limped into the bathroom— one of the only other rooms he knew his way to in this place. He opened the door and stumbled over the threshold, his face creased over deeply with agony and pain. His sleeves had already been rolled up past his elbows, and the teenager immediately flew to the sink, his hands leaving behind dark stains of scarlet on the metal handle as he yanked on the faucet.

Water rushed out of the tap at once, and before Hiro could offer himself any other chance to hesitate, the teenager leaned forward awkwardly to cram his gushing arms underneath the steady stream. Immediately the water fell into the drain a dark pink color, and as the initial film of blood was washed away it revealed just how many cuts had been made. There were too many to count— some were much deeper than others and some were barely there in the first place. The skin around the slashes was injured and mutilated, highlighted even further alongside the dark red that was now streaming away. Since the water had been turned on with no heed paid to the temperature, the freezing cold water began to help stall the pulsating agony from the injuries.

The skin around the jagged rips was dark red with irritation, and Hiro ducked his head, gasping and choking at the pain as the water went full-force into his marred skin. Whether it was because the effects of the pills were wearing off, or whether it was due to the sheer magnitude of hurt he was now being forced to experience, the boy found that his head was slowly becoming clearer. Looking around and being able to connect dots now, the boy reached over to a towel that was hanging on a rack nearest to him, grabbing it up and bringing it down to press against the open wounds. He ducked his head low to his chest and groaned pitifully in the back of his throat, tears tracking down his cheeks as he pressed shakily down on the wounds. The magnitude of agony was increased tenfold at the pressure, but he struggled to breathe through the sensation anyway with shallow gasps.

Blood was heavy on his shirt after he had tried to stop the bleeding on the way to the bathroom— scarlet ruined his dark sweatshirt, and caused a purplish stain to embed deep into the cloth. He had no idea what he would bandage up the splitting skin with; he had no idea whether or not bandages would even work in the first place. He had no clue on how to stave away infection…he didn't even know whether or not Redhead had gauze or anything like that. However those thoughts weren't at the forefront of his mind anyway— they were background noise to the pain that was taking center stage in terms of his focus.

The blood that he was losing – and it was in large amounts – was causing his head to spin and rock, and nausea to settle into him rigidly. He sagged as he kept his arms underneath the spray of the water, finding that it was the only logical thing he could really do at this point. Hiro ducked his head to try and put as much of a stop to its reeling as he could, and he heaved in shallow breath after shallow breath, finding that the stench of the blood that was slowly filling the bathroom was causing his stomach to churn.

…That stupid picture. Hiro's eyes cracked open at this, and he felt a tug in his heart as he stared down emptily. At the stained water and at his ruined arms. And, standing loosely in front of a running sink in an apartment that was not his, deep in the underground part of the city, miles away from his own home, trying to stop the flow of blood from self-inflicted injuries that seemed never-ending as his head spun and his stomach clenched, a thick sob was wrenched out of the young boy's throat. The child ducked his head, shutting his eyes as tightly as he could as he cried openly, his sobs seeming to echo in the empty apartment. His stream of tears matched the overflow of blood to a tee, and he leaned forward so that he could press his forehead to the mirror, rocking slightly as his body began to shake with his cries.

"I'm sorry…" he whimpered, his voice caving and cracking in a million different ways. Just like the spider web glass. "I'm sorry…" He didn't know what he meant. Who he was apologizing to. To Redhead, for doing all of this, asking all of these favors, just to keep pressing for more? To Aunt Cass, for being such a rotten, awful nephew? To Tadashi, for everything he had done that he knew his older brother would look down on him for, and everything that he had failed to do to prevent his death? To himself, for getting this bad and far too lost now to even try and piece himself together? Or maybe it was to all of them at the same time. Regardless of its point though, the apologies tumbled senselessly from his mouth; the fact that he kept up with the mumbles was mostly due to the fact that he was oblivious- more focused on pressing down against the deep tears.

And as he stifled small sounds of distress and discomfort, the front of his hoodie and the length of his sleeves dark with stained blood, the thought came back again. Mingling with the hum of steady water, it was soft and plaintive. A sorrowful derivative from the obscenely gory but mostly pitiful sight that was playing out in the small bathroom.

'…What happened to you?'

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A/N: Thank you so much for your feedback! As always I will wait a little bit to hear more before uploading the next installment! Please tell me what you think! :)


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